After Defeat
by foolwithpen
Summary: Loki has been imprisoned on Asgard. He doesn't intend to remain so. In the meantime, there are worrying events on Midgard. Rated T for some violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

… Four. Five. Turn… Loki Laufeyson paced the confines of his cell. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Turn. Silent behind the gag, he contemplated his situation. The Chitauri would want his blood, of course, although, honestly… his lips twisted wryly for a moment, unseen, even as his fists slowly clenched… that they had not conquered could hardly be his fault. What kind of great army was it, anyway, that fell apart immediately with the loss of one ship? And even without that little problem, where were the numbers? The force sent had hardly been sufficient to take Manhattan, never mind the world… Were they honestly that stupid? It hardly required the intelligence of a god to understand their failure.

The thoughts continued down these profitless avenues only a bare second longer. Regret was as useless as the cheap sentimentality he had derided among the so-called Avengers. The Chitauri had harnessed the power of the staff, had _dared_ to use it against him, Loki. By the Nine, they would live to wish they had never heard of the gems of infinity. They had lost the staff, and unless they had been holding back more than he currently believed, their army was less than promised, but what else had he been able to observe in his days of bondage? Certainly, they believed that with the Tesseract, they would be able to conquer the Universe, but then, they thought they could take Midgard with no more than a single division. Idiots, then, unlikely to challenge the full power of a god without the influence of the staff.

Falling through the space between the worlds for what had seemed an Infinity, he had had time to contemplate his last days in Asgard. It was infuriating that no one seemed to actually *think* among the Asgardians. He had wondered all his life why he alone seemed to be several steps ahead, analyzing problems, finding solutions. The others were content to feast and fight with never a stray thought to trouble them, while Loki contended with a restless brain that took everything in, finding connections in places the others didn't even look. Even now, they could not see what he had tried to do for Asgard, and so they had trapped him like this, silenced, in the belief that this would strip his magic from him.

Of course, had his magic truly been taken from him, there would have been the little matter of reverting to his true, Jotun form, but the fact they hadn't thought of it was a sign that perhaps he could find the other weaknesses, the other slips that would allow him to go elsewhere, to find a place worthy of his rule. Time, then, to consider the weaknesses of all his enemies again…

* * *

Tony Stark contemplated the new, bulletproof window in his tower room. The floor was still a mess, though it was now even and again reinforced, but still unfinished, as he had wanted the window and the essentials fixed first – then everyone could worry about the décor. This floor had just been approved again for use. Maybe things would be ready next week for the movie night he had promised Steve if he'd come over. Pepper would be back by then. He was also working with Bruce Banner on the readings they'd taken from Loki's staff. It hadn't been hard to secure it after the cleanup started. He'd even managed to scrounge some Chitauri hovercraft, armor, and weapons *before* just about everything he hadn't hidden in Stark Tower had been grabbed by SHIELD. The new toys should keep him happily at work for a little while yet.

With that thought, he grabbed his private elevator and headed up to Bruce's temporary lab. "Any luck with the pulse measurements? I've been thinking –" He broke off as he took in the look on the physicist's face. "What's new?"

"It's the staff. After what happened on SHIELD's stealthcraft, I figured we'd better put it in a sealed container while it was being scanned, so I know no one's touched it on this end, but it's giving off the same energy signature SHIELD picked up on the Tesseract, just before Loki paid a visit."

"Not good. Very not good. Do you think the Chitauri are dumb enough to give it a second try? Or could he have…"

"I don't know. All I know is I nearly walked out of this lab when I saw the readout a few minutes ago. I really don't want the other guy showing up in inhabited places without an established enemy to fight." He gave the self-deprecating smile Tony had learned to associate with him and added, "Besides, this is a nice lab you have."

"Right, right. JARVIS, give me the new readings, overlaid with the old. Bruce, don't head to the middle of nowhere just yet, okay? I want to see if we can establish a pattern to the timing, here, and I'll need you, buddy. When did we first see this kind of reading from the Tesseract?" He began humming to himself as he manipulated the charted readouts. When he had rearranged them to a close approximation, he frowned. "We can't be absolutely sure that the staff has the same mechanism as the Tesseract, but this looks a lot like the signature we saw about 72 hours before it went critical. You're the expert here, Bruce, and I'm just going on the visuals. What would you say?"

Frowning, the physicist leaned forward to double-check the data. "I'd say I wish we had the others still in town, though given what happened last time something like this went off, I suggest the staff should also head for the 'middle of nowhere.' The fluctuation is smaller, but so is the overall energy pattern. It _could_ take longer than the Tesseract to go critical." Here, he looked over at Tony directly, "but I sure wouldn't bet on it.

* * *

Steve Rogers had finished his routine and was headed home. With any luck, a new disk would arrive tonight from the service that Tony had set up for him. A new movie practically every night, and all he had to do afterwards was put it back in the envelope and send it back through the mail. The machine itself had not been nearly as confusing as he had feared. All he had to do was touch the rectangle, put the disk, shiny side down, onto the tray, and touch the tray. The movie would usually start then, but if it didn't, Tony had made a special remote-controller for him, with only a few functions, clearly marked.

He had been pleasantly surprised, also, to find that he could still get familiar food. Tony and Bruce seemed to eat the most outrageous things with impossible names. He had thought Chop Suey to be sophisticatedly foreign, but found himself astounded by the range of cuisines Tony regularly had sent up during working meetings. Mrs. Stein, on the corner, made incredible liver, and he'd always been fond of liver, believing when he was younger, that the vitamins would make him bigger. The best part was that she always did "Big Band Thursdays," where the music was familiar.

He didn't want to eat alone tonight, a Friday, though, with only memories for company, so instead, he got a couple hot dogs from a street vendor – with everything, exactly the way he always ordered them. No sense wasting money by not getting everything you pay for. The mailbox did indeed contain a red envelope, so he went upstairs to watch something called "Forrest Gump". Just as he had set down the food, retrieving a box of salad from the refrigerator, something which still caused him a moment of awe, and put his bag neatly on the shelf, the telephone rang.

"Hey, big guy, think you could free up a minute to head out this way? Can't promise you the in-house theater yet, but I think you might be interested in tonight's show anyway. Happy's on his way, maybe even outside your place now if traffic wasn't too bad." Steve tried to fight the smile of relief that crossed his features as he realized he had someplace to be, something to do tonight. But before he met the driver downstairs, he'd eat the hotdogs, so he wouldn't have to depend on Tony's mercurial appetite.

* * *

Loki had stopped pacing, choosing to sit against the wall, his long limbs elegantly disposed and his piercing eyes hooded as he allowed his mind to explore the area around his prison. Even here, the manacles and gag stayed, a small tug on the edge of his consciousness, reminding him that the body was bound, though the spirit roamed free.

He looked out over the great towers of Asgard and wondered what punishment his so-called father and brother would concoct for him. At least they were unlikely to send him back to the mortal world, as had been done to Thor. While the power of Mjolnir was under Odin's control, it might prove more difficult to completely cut off the sources of Loki's power, particularly since his native Jotun form had powers that were certainly not under Asgard's control, and it required magic to keep him from reverting to that form. He wondered for a moment whether Thor's sentimental nature would cause him to ask for mercy, knowing Odin would certainly not grant it.

Even in this shadow form, Loki found his lips pressed together with resentment. They had set themselves up in judgment since his earliest memories, and he had always been found wanting. Why should this time be any different? He hadn't even been on Asgard, yet they presumed to decide his fate by their whim. Before, when he had found a way to win the war that Odin had conducted, and Thor had long wanted to win, they had actively stopped him from destroying Jotunheim and not even bothered to listen to his reasoning. It was then he knew he would never have a fair hearing from either and had chosen to fall into the space between worlds rather than trust to their "justice".

In some ways, that eternal fall had been no worse than this interminable waiting. Certainly, he had not been bound, instead moving through nothingness, free to think whatever he would, to seek out the chinks in reality that allow for movement between the planes. Most Asgardians required something as flashy and powerful as the Bifrost, but Loki had learned to slip through the merest waverings where worlds met. When he had found such a place in the emptiness, he had grabbed the chance and trusted to luck and his own wit and cunning to see him through. So far, it had seen him through to here. But if anything were needed to teach him the ability to use defeat as a weapon, having Thor as an older "brother" would certainly do it.

Speaking of whom… Loki caught the silver pinpoint of light reflecting off steel armor, the merest hint of red, and returned spirit to body, unwilling to give Thor even a hint that he had found at least some respite from his imprisonment. Both to disguise the alert listening stance he had taken, and to remind Thor that he was beaten, Loki curled up more tightly, rested the manacles visibly against his shins, allowed his forehead to rest on his knees. The ghost of a smile drifted away when he heard the hoof beats stop.

Thor had been troubled since the discovery of his brother's madness. Loki had always been the clever one – he planned ahead so that they got away with more youthful pranks than Thor would have accomplished on his own. And Thor had always made sure to include him, along with Sif and the Warriors Three, whenever there was something interesting to do. But Loki had always been quieter, with the hard-to-read face that allowed him to get away with so much mischief. Thor felt guilty that he had not read that face better, known the glitter in Loki's eyes for madness, saved him from the inward turning ambition. He inwardly writhed with the knowledge of his errand.

And so, even knowing that Loki could not be trusted, Thor's heart twisted to see him curled up, back to the wall, the strap of the gag just visible under the black hair, the manacles starkly silver against the black leather trousers. It twisted further to realize that Loki must have heard him enter the cell, yet did not look up, keeping his head down, refusing even to look at his brother. "Loki…" he began, not knowing how to proceed, how to talk now that they were so far apart.

At last, Loki looked up, eyebrows raised, and face molded into an expression of cool inquiry. Thor's discomfort with his errand and with his brother doubled as he realized that the entire burden of conversation would be on him, that he could not count on Loki to be the wordsmith for this message. "Our father…" Loki's head tilted, just a fraction of a degree, but enough to communicate his rejection of the relationship. "Odin has decreed your sentence." At this, Loki raised his arms, resting elbows on knees, and bringing the manacles to rest against his chest as his chin came down in his hands. Save for the bonds, he might look like a child awaiting a particularly dull lesson.

"You are to be chained here, hands and feet bound to the rock." At this, Thor took an uncertain breath to steady himself as his blue eyes grew suspiciously shiny. Loki's face remained impassive, impossible to read. "And your gag will be removed, in order for the Serpent to drip venom on your face the rest of your days." His voice broke with the last words. Loki lifted his eyes to look directly at Thor, his face set and white. Taking a deep breath, nostrils flaring, he leaned forward onto his toes and stood, turning his back for the removal of the gag.

Thor, rendered clumsy by his emotional distress, fumbled for a moment with the gag before managing to release it. Loki stood, still turned away, hands hanging down as his jaw silently worked out the stiffness of the gag. Finally, still not turning, he asked, his voice rough with disuse, the words barely spoken above a whisper, "Now? You?"

"We have some time. I asked it of the All-Father and he granted my boon, for the sake of our brotherhood. Others will come before sundown for the punishment. Provided you neither attack nor attempt escape, we may talk. Is there anything you would have of me? If it is within my honor and my ability, you will have it."

* * *

Pathetic, really. He's come back with a sentence of eternal torture and hopes a few tears in the eyes and some moments – to do what, by the way? will make everything all better, will make Loki's life all better, the childhood in Thor's shadow, the loss of brotherhood and identity in one moment, the sentence to come. All better.

Still, it's an opening. Willing his face to the expression he'd last worn dangling over an eternal abyss, Loki turned with shining eyes, lips softy parted in an expression of earnest hope and lifted his hands. "Please, brother, must I go to my punishment wearing these? Surely, everything has been taken. I have no staff, I have been weakened these days here with nothing to eat or drink, bound night and day. Can I not have a few moments with my hands unbound? No, you would hardly trust me with that. So let Mother know I still love her. Don't let her suffer for my punishment." He put every ounce of earnest goodwill he could find into his voice, letting it break at the end, in nearly perfect imitation of Thor, who did not notice the echo, but instead reached forward to grasp the manacles. Loki cast his eyes down in seeming humble submission to hide the sudden gleam of triumph.

* * *

Bruce watched, amused, as Tony made sure that a few more scans were made of the Chitauri "toys" and put in his personal file, while they waited for Happy to show up with Steve. Remembering the chaos that the staff had left in its wake on the SHIELD ship, and even that it had seemed to target him, Bruce wondered about the wisdom of having it in an enclosed space with him again, but at the same time, recognized the wisdom of having Avengers on hand when whatever was about to happen happened. The billionaire was getting increasingly edgy, however, and had already snapped at JARVIS to stop interrupting him, then dictated a series of staccato orders for travel arrangements to one of Stark's various land holdings.

"JARVIS, where the hell are they? Cap need to stop for a ballgame or something?" Tony ran a hand through his hair, adding to the disorder already reigning there.

"We're here, Mr. Stark." The tall blonde was walking from the elevator, a boyish smile lighting his face. "No ballgame, just slow traffic. But if we're not seeing a movie, what's the show you were talking about?" He looked around the room, then, taking in Tony's nervous tension and the worried look on Bruce's face.

"No. You are _not_ about to tell me that you've found a problem and kept it secret, are you? I know that's not what you're going to tell me because you'd be more responsible than that." His eyes narrowed. "Right?"

"Wrong. We're responsible enough not to want to get civilians killed, and aren't sure that involving SHIELD will further that goal." Tony's look was direct, his feet planted, every line of his body showing his willingness to defend his words. "Look, we just – that is, Bruce just noticed that the readings on the staff – it was still in the tower, so we took readings on it – the staff readings are looking maybe a little like the readings from the Tesseract from before, you know, the whole 'It Came From Outer Space' thing. I wanted to get some Avengers together, and you know, we're already here, we take the staff and go to an old missile complex I happen to own. Once we're there, if you have to let Fury know, then do it, but I'm getting this staff out of Manhattan first."

"My helicraft should be on the roof by now. Yell at me on the way, okay?"

Steve bit back his frustration with the chaotic inventor. True, the first priority should be to get the staff away from the crowded city. And he knew from personal experience that SHIELD was not always on the side of sweetness and light, but the fact stood that nobody should be able to just claim the kind of power that the staff represented, and it sounded like Tony had simply decided to take it during the cleanup. It was moments like this that deeply disturbed him, when he wondered if anyone understood the importance of having good leadership and following those leaders staunchly.

None of this, however, was getting the staff away from Manhattan, so he nodded curtly and turned toward the elevator again. Tony grabbed a small suitcase, and a long, thin metal box and now lead the way to the helipad.

* * *

As the shackles fell free, Loki stretched and flexed his arms carefully, as if experimenting with the feeling of having arms. Quietly, he turned to Thor, long, dexterous fingers moving as though to return feeling to them, each movement graceful but hesitant, almost uncertain. "Do you remember, Thor, the day I helped slow down the new wall around Asgard?"

Thor chuckled, "That was truly one of your better jests! How could I forget it?"

Suddenly, Loki focused on Thor, his face intent "Everyone was so angry, simply furious. Especially the All-Father, but you asked a boon of him, and…"

Thor shifted his eyes away from the pale serious face, turning to the wall of the cave. His feet shifted uncomfortably. For a moment, unseen, the light falling on Loki shifted slightly, almost flickering. "This is more serious than that was. Your obsession with imagined slights has led you to do much evil. Our father believes you must learn repentance." Thor said, looking up again. Loki's eyes were turned down now to the floor, idly watching as a small fly crawled onto Thor's boot, then he looked back up to Thor's face, smiling the razor-edged grin that had become too familiar.

The next moment, green light filled the cave and the raven-haired god was gone.

* * *

From the edge of Thor's boot, Loki watched as his illusion disappeared and a shout of protest erupted from the god of thunder. If there would ever be a day Thor would discern the difference between the real Loki and an image, today was not that day. Loki wished for a moment he could roll the compound eyes. The problem, of course, was that Thor had never seen him, had only ever seen the image that Thor wanted to see. It ached to know that the "big brother" in whose shadow he had grown, whom he had desired with every breath to become, could not pierce the simple illusion.

Soon enough, Thor was pounding out of the cave, running for his horse and shouting at the top of his lungs. Predictable, so utterly predictable. Loki clung to the boot, wings poised for flight, even as he wondered for a moment how he had ever thought that an idiot like Thor could possibly understand him. After they had passed into the sunlight of late afternoon, Loki waited another moment, then lazily flew off the boot onto the tail of Thor's horse.

The disadvantage, of course, to being a fly was that it would normally take some time to travel, but Thor would get him where he needed to go. His escape would, naturally, have been reported by this time. And this form would not necessarily hide him from others, but they would probably assume he was long gone. In any case, the risk would have to be taken. He'd forgotten to bring something when he'd left in such a hurry last time, and while he was at it, there was another toy he'd like to pick up. Inwardly, a manic grin spread through his being.

* * *

"Bruce, do we have those scanners for a go?" Tony had thrown out about half the seats in his luxuriously appointed private helicraft while the three Avengers loaded themselves and the staff. While the front remained obviously intended for comfort, the back had been rapidly stripped down to bare metal, and now contained only the heavily secured container for the staff, a few pieces of mysterious apparatus, and a tablet that Tony had fished out of a locker in the front, then handed to Bruce. The case Tony had brought on board sat next to him.

Bruce knelt, dividing his attention between one of the devices now securely attached to the floor and the tablet. "Almost, although, it's hard for me to tell, the readings are fluctuating too much. I can't tell for sure whether it's the instrument or the staff is further along than we thought."

"Right, yeah." Tony turned his head to the cockpit and barked out, "Whatever it is that you're doing up there, cut it out and get us going!"

Smoothly, rapidly, the helicraft rose from the pad and began the long trip west. As they went airborne, some of the tension in the air faded, though Bruce kept anxiously glancing at the readout on the tablet. Tony blinked, visibly calming himself, looked at the other two Avengers. "I know I've got a decently stocked bar on this thing, and usually there are sandwiches. Anybody hungry?"

The diversion was not destined to be successful. "Mr. Stark, can you explain to me what is happening, and how it is that you just 'happen' to have the staff?" Steve Rogers was leaning forward, eyes intently focused. His stiffer-than-usual military posture was an easy tell for the outrage he felt over the appropriation of the staff.

"About that, yeah. Well, the Tesseract was on its way to Asgard, care of everybody's favorite thunder god, which seemed like a good thing then – still does, actually. I kind of picked up one or two things the Chitauri had left behind, you know, not really scrounging, but it doesn't do to leave everything a mess, and besides, we all know that when SHIELD gets its hands on that stuff, they're going to have their engineers trying to backwards engineer everything, only none of their engineers are me." Here, he gave the practiced smile he used when accepting awards or revealing a new invention. "In any case, it seemed like a good idea at the time to keep an eye on the staff. We already know it can be used as a weapon, even if none of us knows exactly how it works. So, I kind of cleared out a little space in a locker that might not be on the official plans"

"We, that is, I - thought, 'hey, let's keep an obvious weapon out of the hands of a department that was already trying to use the Tesseract to make weapons.' Because I just know that somehow, some way, they'd get the wrong information into the wrong hands. And besides, it needs to be looked after by experts. I had Bruce up in the R&D levels, so I already had the best expert, plus, of course, me. So what about those sandwiches?"

Steve looked troubled, obviously wishing he could find the flaw in the argument, but unable to disagree.

* * *

Loki again hid himself on Thor's boot as they drew close to the palace. As he dismounted, Thor tossed the reins to a lackey, running through the marble entry and lightly up a set of perfectly proportioned stairs leading to a light filled chamber. Here, he dove into the complex passages to reach the more private, more secure family zone. Since Loki had escaped, if he chose to remain on Asgard, he would want the Casket of Ancient Winters, and Thor would have to protect it. With any luck at all, they would not yet have created a second secure chamber for the Tesseract.

Effortlessly clinging to the decoration on Thor's boot, Loki waited to be carried exactly where he wanted to go.

* * *

The Avengers landed in the partially restored missile base, and headed for the entry to a blocky concrete bunker. Opening the door, Tony gestured around at the spare furnishings. "Okay, guys, it's not the Ritz, I'll grant you. We've had workmen out to make the place liveable – it was taken down in the '90's and had some problems. Gotten a whole bunch of the land declared a wildlife sanctuary for the tax benefits, and Pepper was talking about making it a kind of retreat. So I've got a basic setup for coming out to check up on the place. There's a small workroom kind of thing – not really a full lab, but better than the helicraft. I got bored last time she dragged me out here. Speaking of, shouldn't she be back from that conference thing by now, JARVIS?"

"I am sorry, sir, but she has two more days in Madrid. Shall I make the connection?"

Tony thought for a moment. "Not yet, this might worry her, and I hate it when that happens." He opened a few doors. "Main bathroom, six bedrooms, kitchen with backup survival rations – the deliveries here can be inconsistent, so there's the Mormon food thing. And, finally, my workroom – The place does have wireless internet and, obviously, is connected to my servers, so don't feel like we'll be totally cut off from the world here." They filed into the workroom, which was larger than the lounge they had initially seen. Bruce placed the box onto one of the metal lab benches in the center of the room.

Just then, the metal box began to glow bright blue, and shake.

* * *

Nick Fury paced restlessly. "Hill, do we have any information yet on where they might have gone?" His eye focused sternly on the young woman looking through a readout on the computer screen.

"Their flight plans go through to California, but it's odd… they have a fueling stop, here in the Great Plains. I thought his personal helicraft had been converted to ARC reactor technology, so why does he need fuel? I checked the stop. There's nothing there that we know of, except Stark started a wildlife refuge there a few months ago as part of Stark Industries' Greener, Greater, Better campaign, right before the Manhattan incident, if you remember. Reclaiming an old missile base, but you had cleared agents going through a second time as soon as you realized who was going to buy it."

"Stark." Fury snorted. "Why does that not surprise me? I knew we had to keep an eye on him as soon as Agent Romanov realized he must have the staff. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get anybody highly enough placed in there since they spotted her. I'm just glad our man spotted Captain Rogers going in at the same time as a helicraft. Wait, didn't we send Barton to monitor the situation in Montana? Get him out there ASAP!"

* * *

Natasha smiled and played with the straw in her drink. As she smiled up at the gentleman who towered over her, she ran her tongue over her lower lip and gave a delicate shrug. "Yes, darling, but I'd need that shipment by Tuesday, and everything would have to be secure. My boss is not a… patient man."

The man's brutal features shaped into a leer. "Tuesday is not too soon. I'm not patient, either." His hand moved to her waist as she lifted the drink for a tiny sip. Next, she melted into his embrace, and lifted her face for a kiss. A few moments later, the man was rolling, purple-faced, on the floor. She stood over him for a moment, decided he'd earned a little mercy for the information he'd given, and broke his neck.

Just then, her cell phone went off. When Nick Fury began to speak, she smiled. "Your timing is perfect. I was just cleaning up here."

* * *

Loki slipped off the boot, and flew the few feet to the raised dais on which the Casket sat. Looking over, he saw that the Tesseract was also in the same room. Perfect. He'd planned for much more difficult scenarios while caged. From the hall came the sound of shouts, running feet, clashing swords, and his own voice in a low snarl. "You will not deny entrance to a King of Asgard!" Predictably, Thor ran into the hallway, following the elusive battle. Loki smiled as he transformed back into his preferred form. As he grabbed both treasures, the wall began to light up, signalling the entrance of the Destroyer, but Loki gestured with the hand holding the Tesseract, causing it to disappear, then grabbed the Casket with both hands and froze the wall. Of course, that wouldn't hold the Destroyer for long, but he didn't intend to linger.

Looking down at his now-blue arm, he snarled and gestured the Casket away. Running to the end of the hall, he slipped through the worlds into the wreckage of a mountain in Jotunheim.


	2. Chapter 2

Landing heavily on the packed snow and ice, Loki looked around. He'd been to Jotunheim before, and even to this particular place. He'd discovered that particular connection between worlds while still a Prince of Asgard. Well, he'd been here _before_ he'd tried to destroy Jotunheim using the Bifrost. The terrain had been… significantly altered. Before, this had been a carefully sculpted ring, surrounded by uplifted ice crystals which had reflected blue light in a fashion that had been both impressive and somehow tranquil. Though he had said nothing at the time, he had been a little impressed that such bestial creatures had managed to create beauty from the barren wasteland of ice.

He hadn't known what to expect this time – perhaps even nothingness. Instead, the tumbled rock, snow, and ice had created a new, jagged landscape, barren, but with its own complex beauty. Loki shook his head to clear it for a second. Lingering here was not part of the plan. Making another complex gesture, he withdrew the Tesseract, and went in search of the staff. As he left, a boulder shifted, a shadow lengthened.

* * *

Tony ran through the lounge into the first bedroom door he'd opened, calling out, "JARVIS, initialize Mark VI, emergency procedure. Also, Avenger protocol, sub-program Cap." As the inventor entered, a portion of the wall slid back, revealing an Iron Man suiting mechanism. While he was quickly encased, a second panel had opened in the main room, revealing a copy of Captain America's shield. Steve grinned and grabbed it, before the panel closed again. The three Avengers moved together back into the workroom, in time to see the metal case completely vaporize, and at the same moment, a flash of green on the far side of the table alerted them to the sudden presence of Loki, obviously prepared for battle in full armor, with the Tesseract in his hands.

A moment later, the staff blazed brightly blue, sending strange shadows throughout the workroom, then disappeared, leaving the three Avengers and Loki stunned for a moment, simply looking at the empty surface of the lab table. The temporary truce of mutual astonishment didn't last long. Loki assumed a defensive stance, tucking away the Tesseract and coming out with another blue box.

Tony stepped forward. "I thought your brother had grounded you to the palace or something. And I don't see an army this time. Just checking, but…"

Loki sneered at the reference to Thor. "No, Mighty Thor just barely had the bravery to tell me that his father had sentenced me to an eternity of torture. Sadly for the family unity, I felt disinclined to submit tamely. If necessary, I have the ability to defend myself, mortals, but now I seek the staff that I may revenge myself upon the Chitauri. I do not suggest withholding it from me." The menace rolling off the Asgardian was palpable.

* * *

He hoped the Midgardians accepted his words as true. He did his best to project a glamour of strength and will that would convince them he was far too dangerous to cross. The truth, of course, was that between a month's starvation, and the free use of his own powers during the escape, he would be lucky to go another hour standing without collapse. But especially before these mortals, there could be no weakness. He knew they would happily return him to Thor's custody for return to Asgard and torment. Or, perhaps, although counting on this would be foolish, to their own SHIELD facility. While it would be preferable to Asgard, it would still require another escape, and the energy he had wasted on following the staff to Midgard, only to watch it disappear again, made him briefly want to kill everyone present in a fit of pique, then put his head down and cry. This reaction, though, was unworthy and only the result of starvation and a too-free expenditure of energy.

Whatever they had done to the staff to keep it from him, they would soon regret. To a certain extent, he could call on the energy of the Tesseract, though relying too much on that would be dangerous. He needed reserves of personal energy to control the raw elemental strength of such powers, or he risked being torn to shreds by uncontrolled interdimensional energies.

* * *

Bruce watched warily, his hands held at his sides by seeming force of will. This was not yet a battle situation, but could become so at any moment.

Steve Rogers looked over at Tony and quietly shook his head. Stepping forward, he held up his hands. "We don't have it. When it disappeared just as you appeared, I had certainly assumed you to have taken it. Certainly, last time you came, you were able to retrieve it fairly easily. Frankly, when it began glowing and nearly going off, I believed that you were probably on your way and we brought the staff here, which is unpopulated, in the hopes that we would be able to stop your plans before you made another mess on our planet."

Loki looked carefully into his face, searching for even the smallest hint of falsehood. "My plans, at present, involve Midgard only insofar as you had the staff. If it is not here, I will seek it where it lies, that I may be avenged upon those who took advantage of my position when I was betrayed." He glared at the Avengers, raising his hands to once again retrieve the Tesseract.

At this, Tony again made his presence known. "Wait a second, there, Houdini. Okay, yeah, you want the staff, but then what? I'm not really wanting to say 'Yeah, you go for it and get the staff and we'll wait here like nice little subjects while you do.' It seems to me, from our perspective, that we have a known war criminal here and should try to, I don't know, put you in something better than SHIELD had last time. I mean, I've got a whole missile base here – including a reinforced silo attached to this building. I bet we could come up with something. But what we shouldn't do is wait here while you get another weapon and another army."

"Wait." Everyone turned as Bruce spoke, his tone as usual soft, almost hesitant, but his face was intent, staring at Loki. It was surprising to hear him speak so softly, this man who could in an instant become so very different. "You don't look good. Last time, Fury said you arrived looking… feverish, but it's not even that. You look like…" The physicist shook his head with frustration, trying to express himself clearly. "When's the last time you ate something? I…" He smiled in his diffident way. "I know something about dealing with inner demons, and you don't want to try on an empty stomach. We have survival rations here. Why don't we call a truce? You can tell us what you mean about avenging yourself, and we'll feed you something." His eyes slid sideways on the comment to catch Steve's. The soldier nodded, and some of the tension left the two Avengers.

Loki looked wildly at both faces, eyes narrowed. "What trick is this? Do you seek to keep me for Asgard? I can use the Casket of Ancient Winters to defend myself. Or the Tesseract."

"No tricks. Just food, if you need a rest, what have you… and a chance to explain why you need to be avenged. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe you're manipulating me somehow. Maybe you're not, but you'll still find a way to use it against us. I honestly don't know, but I don't like to bring the other guy into a situation if I don't have to. And you don't look good. Frankly, I've seen healthier faces on people who were dying. You look pale, tired, and even thinner than last time I saw you. I have no idea what happened in Asgard, and we have no way to hold you here if you want to leave. You showed us that last time you were here."

Steve took over. "Sir, we have neither the means nor the current authority to detain you, though it would take one call to get the latter. But, like Dr. Banner, I suspect that even were we to detain you, it wouldn't succeed without your cooperation. Your presence here proves that, I think. But I also think it would be a good idea for everyone to understand what is going on."

Eventually, Tony put up the faceplate on the Iron Man suit, relaxed from battle stance, and turned for the kitchen. "Let's go look, guys."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, everyone had picked a bag with menu printed on the side, and meals were warming inside chemical sleeves. Bruce had grabbed a crate from the stack, and opened it to reveal a selection of heavily packaged meals. He rapidly selected his, gave advice on the flavors available, and then had shown the others how to activate the chemical tabs. "I had to eat a lot of these when I was working in the refugee camp. One of the big human rights campaigns sent us a few pallets. Made for a great break from the usual rice and dry milk rations. Save the nut raisin mix packets; they're good with the crackers – not as good as the old freeze-dried fruit bars, but nobody provides those anymore. If it's too much food, save the crackers and spread for later. They're meant for snacking. But the fruit drink mixes are really bad the first few times. Loki, you're getting oatmeal - don't eat too much. If you haven't eaten in a long time, eating too much could do damage."

As everyone began to eat, Steve smiled. "These have gotten better. At least it's not just hash or stew."

Loki, his helmet dismissed into ether, looked suspiciously at the beige mush in front of him, then reluctantly took a spoonful. It was true, he hadn't eaten in far too long, and the mere feel of food in his mouth was almost too much sensation. He savored each bite, though careful to keep the bag protected within the ring of an arm draped on the table, as he watched the three Avengers eat. He finished the oatmeal quickly, and began to take the packages of crackers the others had left in the middle of the table. Eventually, he got up and took another bag from the shelf, opening and eating the contents cold.

Bruce looked over with a concerned expression on his face. "I know you're hungry, but the amount you've eaten already would kill an ordinary human who hadn't had enough to eat for a long time. I don't want you to be hurt from the food."

Loki turned an edged grin, nearly feral, on the physicist. "It's unlikely I will be, mortal. Our digestive systems are unlike yours. Once, for a bet, I ate an entire banquet, including an ox." Grabbing another few bags, he returned to the table. "I used a great deal of energy escaping and travelling. It will be good for me to have energy again."

"So, about that vengeance thing…" Tony looked straight at Loki. "I thought we were the ants, you were the boot, the Chitauri were, what, the sole?"

Loki's expressive face turned cold. "You speak of what you do not understand, mortal. I suppose Thor has told you he is my brother?" The others nodded, cautious in the face of Loki's changing mood.

"When last I saw him before my most recent visit to Midgard, we were both hanging from the remains of a bridge. This was shortly after I had discovered the truth of my parentage. I fell into a wormhole and found a way to travel to the planet of the Chitauri. They found me and decided to use my… difficulties to control me, giving me the staff that has just gone missing. I have had time to realize the extent to which the staff was used to influence my behavior, just as you," here he looked directly at Bruce. "- were influenced briefly while aboard the ship where I made everyone's acquaintance. I am unwilling to allow such coercion to go unanswered." The green eyes flashed with a fierce determination, as Loki opened another bag and began to eat the contents.

* * *

Clint Barton swung down from the cockpit, grabbing the sheath as he went and shrugging into it. Reaching back up, he pulled the bow from the rack inside and snapped it into position as he activated the door closing mechanism. Fury had said the staff had been moved, and that, alone, would have had him tracking it. He still awoke with cold sweats, remembering the feel of another mind pressing on his own, the futile struggle to maintain his own identity in the face of the relentless coercion of Loki and the staff. He still comforted himself with the thought that it had been his arrow that had distracted the bastard so that his craft had crashed. It would have been even better to have actually managed to put the explosive arrow through an eye socket, but at least Loki had been taken to another planet, where they would be able to hold him secure.

When Fury had let him know that Tony had most likely taken the staff here, he'd gone cold. Had Loki somehow escaped? Clint could hardly believe even the arrogant engineer would somehow conceal something that important. Whatever was going on, Clint would do his best to stop it. Setting his jaw, he took off at a low run in the direction of the bunker listed for the property.

* * *

"So it was the Chitauri who wanted you to be king?" The skeptical look on Tony's face was echoed by the other Avengers present. Loki was working on yet another survival meal. The pile of wrappings beside him had grown, despite his crumpling everything and sticking it back into the original packaging. Tony thought he'd even seen him eating the chemical packets, though he couldn't be sure.

"The Chitauri were pawns." Loki waved dismissively, his long fingers elegantly flicking away any suggestion that the Chitauri were worthy of his time or attention. "There was another, more powerful. I believe it was he who controlled the staff, and he who will surely be seeking another to use it." Here he turned to Bruce. "There are two ways the staff may control someone. One is the obvious way, through the blade, but the other is more subtle and works with the angers and impulses of the wielder. Thus it was that you were influenced, and even I have felt that power. I do not choose to allow such manipulation to go unanswered."

"But why invade Earth?" Steve leaned forward, his shield now propped against his chair while his attention focused on the pale Asgardian.

"As Thor told you, Midgard has shown that it aspires to a higher form of war. There are those who will oblige such aspirations. The Chitauri learned of Midgard through seeking the Tesseract and it was that which drew them. You have it no longer." Again, an airy gesture dismissed the subject.

* * *

Using the override code given him just before landing by SHIELD, Clint let himself into the bunker in time to hear an all-too familiar voice. Edging silently across to the doorway into the kitchen, he drew an arrow and notched it. Peeking around the doorway, he saw Loki, seated at a table with the other Avengers. He was making a gesture with the long hands Clint still saw in nightmares. Somehow, despite the pile of food wrappings, the barren surroundings, Loki looked like a prince granting audience, lounging at his ease while dispensing favors.

A cold certainty gripped Clint's heart. Somehow, Loki had managed to enslave the others to his will, just as had happened to him the last time. He would not, could not allow that to happen. Ignoring the hard knot that formed in him, the cold fear collecting in his spine, he pivoted in a smooth motion through the doorway, keeping his arrow trained at every second on the monster who haunted his dreams.

* * *

Pure exhaustion: that could be his only excuse. While he had been free to sleep in captivity, the starvation had not only depleted his reserves, but had made sleep more fitful as well. The food, despite its low quality, had helped, but he was still far from strong. He had not seen any way the others could have alerted SHEILD, but here was an agent, nonetheless, who had managed to get so close. Escape was his only option. As Agent Barton began to pivot through the doorway, Loki stood, gesturing the Tesseract into his hands.

Steve noticed the movement and with the extraordinarily fast reflexes granted by the serum, flung out an arm to prevent whatever Loki was preparing to do. It took both of them by surprise when his arm contacted Loki's just as the Tesseract began to pull him back to Jotunheim, chosen because it was easy to envision and deserted, unlikely to contain more enemies.

* * *

"Oh, shit!" Tony stared at the space which had just contained Loki and the super soldier, both now gone in a burst of blue light. Only after a second did he realize that he'd just heard someone else saying the same from the doorway. He looked up into the cold blue eyes of the marksman and asked, "Is there any reason at all why I lock my doors when SHEILD can just waltz in any time they choose?"

Clint stared at Tony, looking into his eyes in the hopes of seeing how deep the influence went. He had no idea how he would manage to create a deep enough concussion through the Iron Man armor, were Tony deep under Loki's control. He turned the unspent arrow to the open faceplate of the suit, keeping a further eye on Dr. Banner as he edged into the room. "Where has he gone? Or didn't you need to know, either?"

"What? I have no idea where he's gone or what that bastard will do with Steve, now that he's got him! We had a truce, sort of, where Loki was eating a week's worth of survival rations in return for telling us mostly that he was pissed at the Chitauri, and maybe there was somebody else involved in the invasion. Only we never got to that part, because somebody broke into my place and made him take a hostage." He glared significantly at Hawkeye, then turned and faced Bruce. "You were right, though. After that little show, even I can't imagine that the reinforced silo would have done jack to hold him."

Clint lowered his weapon. Neither Avenger seemed to be under Loki's influence, though he would watch, just to be certain. His own time in thrall had taught him exactly how sneaky and manipulative the demigod could be. "Okay, so Fury sent me to find out what you were doing in the middle of nowhere. He thought it probably had something to do with the staff, since his best guess was that you had it, then suddenly you grab Cap and fly out here."

"I don't know if you've had lunch. Help yourself to a pouch. Loki didn't quite finish the case, and we've got more cases, although I really hate this stuff. JARVIS, arrange for some dinner tonight – have whoever's got the helicraft bring some take-out. And write a memo to me that I want to figure out something else to stock this place with."

Tony sighed. "We were trying to prevent another mess from happening in Manhattan. Bruce found an energy signature similar to the one before the Tesseract went critical and the two of us decided it was time to book, just in case we had another meltdown scenario. We wanted to be able to contain the mess as best we could and grabbed the Avengers who were still in the Big Apple to be the first line of defense. I admit I wasn't overly eager to involve Fury if I could avoid it. And Thor's probably still cleaning up whatever mess Loki made there when he escaped."

Clint glanced at the meal pouches left, grabbed the pot roast, and began to activate the chemical sleeve as they settled in to discuss possible scenarios.

* * *

Steve felt the tingling energy from the moment the edge of his hand made contact with Loki's armor. A moment of dizzying disorientation as the breath was knocked from his body, and then… even as he tried to draw a breath to replace what was gone, he choked, finding no breathable air. Loki grabbed him, and again, he felt the tingling electricity from the demigod's hands, seeming to flow into his shoulders, through his body, and he began to breathe again, noticing as he did so that the atmosphere had gone from bone-chillingly frozen to a more moderate temperature. Loki himself, however, looked on the razor's edge of collapse, and whatever else had just happened, Steve knew that somehow Loki had saved his life. He grabbed hold of the swaying shoulders in a fireman's hold, noticing as he did that his hands and arms were blue – not the solid blue of his uniform, but a crystalline, cold blue, the same blue that was beginning to infuse Loki's features, revealing whorls and patterns of deeper blue covering his skin.

Looking around the desolate landscape, the soldier noted where two leaning slabs of ice formed a sort of rough cave. Half assisting, half carrying Loki, he headed for the shelter, wondering briefly where they could find food in this wilderness, even as the cold did not seem to be affecting them as badly as it should. In some ways, that fact alone was worrying, as perhaps this was some mental effect of extreme hypothermia. In addition, his body felt unfamiliar, stiffer than usual, with a strange feeling of dislocation, similar to when he'd tried to adjust to his new body after the serum.

As they collapsed together inside the cave, Steve looked down at the trembling creature beside him. "I thought you were going to strike someone down, so I moved to stop you. What happened?"

Loki's face was somewhere between a snarl and a bark of cruel laughter, strange red eyes boring into the captain's face. "I sought to escape, but your arm's contact with me dragged you along for the ride. Fortunately for you, despite also transporting you, when I arrived, I still had enough energy to transform you, at least temporarily, to Jotun. Your pathetic mortal body craved a familiar atmosphere and temperature. A Jotun body, no matter how debased it is, is at least able to survive."

"Thank you. But…" The soldier blinked for a second. "You've tried to kill me before this. Why did you spend your energy to preserve me, rather than let me freeze or choke to death?"

"Debased I may be. Jotun, monster even, I may be. But I pay my debts and you saved mine by agreeing to the truce on Midgard. If I had not eaten then, I would have risked my life in attempting to use the Tesseract again. The fact that I am so weak now is proof of that." At that, he gave a bitter laugh as his head sagged back again and he closed his eyes. Steve Rogers looked out on the harsh landscape and resigned himself to being on watch until the demigod awoke.


	3. Chapter 3

"You, yourself, said that Cap is being held hostage. Neither Loki nor Cap will know where we are if we're not here. We should stay." The archer's eyes were hard, his brows drawn together.

"And do what? We haven't seen Loki in months, aside from his little snack, here." Tony gestured at the litter of foil and plastic that marked where the demigod had been sitting. "I'm not convinced he doesn't still have plans, and I'd rather not be hours from everywhere when he does decide to strike. Whatever those plans are, they don't appear to be focused on us this time, so we can't count on that, if he decides to come back to 'Midgard' or if the Chitauri decide to bring the battle here."

"We already smacked their hands for them in New York. You just want to go back because you have a comfortable place and access to takeout."

"Access to labs, a personal arsenal, a better communications network… Yes, I want access, damn it!"

As the other two continued to argue, Bruce slipped out of the room, looking for somewhere quiet to think.

* * *

Steve sat quietly in the cave, watching over Loki's sleep and trying to think of means of survival. Obviously, depending on Loki to provide food would overtax his magic as things stood. Therefore, he needed to find out what Jotuns, whatever they were, ate. Shelter, at least of a rudimentary sort, they seemed to have. Did Jotuns need water? He hadn't felt thirsty, but would he recognize 'thirsty' in the unfamiliar body? In the time since Loki had collapsed, Steve had revised his earlier thought that this was like adjusting to his post-serum body. In adjusting to his body after the serum, at least he had still had a human body, rather than this one. Then, while it was unfamiliar, he'd rapidly adjusted physically when given a concrete task to accomplish. This time was worse. He had taken a few steps, feeling the strange length of the new legs, the different muscular movements, the very texture of his own body changed and unfamiliar.

He moved to the mouth of the cave. If there were dangers in this foreign world, it would be his duty to protect them both. More, it would be his only hope of survival. Loki had said that the change was only temporary, so he would need to keep the demigod alive in order to have any chance of not choking to death in the freezing cold.

Still, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. When he'd returned to learn that Americans had walked on the moon, the glow of pride had been intense. Now, he himself was standing on another planet, possibly in a different galaxy. For all his survival training, he felt unprepared, but also excited by the new possibilities.

As he looked out over the bleak landscape, he saw something moving among the ice boulders. "Hello? Are you friend or foe?" The movement stilled, then cautiously approached. A Jotun emerged from the icy background, looking back at him, examining him closely.

Finally, it (he, she? Steve wondered) said in a low, whispery voice, "You are not the son of King Laufey. Who are you and why are you here?"

"I'm here by accident. I am Steve Rogers of Earth; um... you might call it Midgard." He stood, uncomfortably worrying whether this might be the single stupidest thing he had ever done or said.

The red eyes looked deep into his face, as the mouth broke into a sly smile. "Then, equally a creature of legend, though you do not look as the stories say, small creatures with a fire inside them that melts snow."

From behind him, Steve could just catch the sound of Loki waking up. A little more loudly, so Loki would know what he had said, and to cover the sound, he began, "Well, there was that accident I told you I had, and I was… well, I don't know exactly where I am or why I look like this, but I don't look like a normal human right now. I did before everything happened."

But the red eyes were already looking past him into the deeper recesses of the cave. Loki emerged, a scowl marring the blue features. "Oh, how soon you forget, Captain Rogers. I believe I am responsible for your current form. I'm fairly certain I told you so at the time." He dismissed the soldier with a movement of his eyes, turning to face the strange Jotun, who gasped.

"The Lost Prince! Your Highness!" Here, the stranger dropped to one knee, making what was obviously a formal gesture with the right hand, moving it to his head, then left breast, then right hip. "Please, Your Highness, I am Byleist, your cousin. Our mothers were sisters. I survived the purging when the False Loki came, by coming here to the wilderness. We have waited for your return since the Dark Battle. I did not lose hope even during the Swallowing. We cannot offer you the return you deserve, but will do our poor best. I knew it must be you when I saw your hand during King Laufey's last battle. I was newly accepted into his guard. You were among the Asgardians who came to threaten us, but killed only once, in self-defense. I saw your hand and knew who you had to be."

Steve had stepped back, but was watching the interaction between the two Jotuns carefully. Whatever Loki had expected here, it was not this. For all the guile and trickery Steve had seen from the demigod, it had always been with a smooth, urbane face, a ready smile, an assumption of comfort, not this immobile mask with shocked eyes.

Byleist seemed to recover himself. "But you must have gone through much to escape the Asgardians. Had you escaped before the Swallowing, we would have welcomed you with a great feast, but since the False Loki came, our survival is more precarious. And Your Highness is far too exposed here. Come, both of you, quickly and quietly." So saying, he slipped silently through the boulders, causing the two visitors to strain to keep up, though as before, the soldier found that with active use, he understood his new body better by the second. At last, they approached what appeared to be a tumbled mass of ice from an avalanche. Here, the Jotun placed his hand on one sheet, and it slowly dissolved under his touch. As they filed into the dark opening, he turned again, held up his hand, and recreated the ice that had covered the entrance.

A tunnel through the darkness suddenly ended in a turn into a cavern, lit from above by large windows of ice. The walls were rough rock and smooth blue ice, though here and there, delicate traceries of frost climbed the surface of the rocks in sparkling patterns that enhanced the natural beauty.

"We have a little skyr, preserved fish, and fermented eggs. Sadly, we have no porridge to offer save that made from lichen and spring-krill, but perhaps after our next raid…" Here Byleist smiled. "I had always thought to be a soldier. When His Majesty made me one of his guards, I was so proud. And here I am, prattling like some old butler." So saying, he reached into a hollow created where one of the ice walls met a stone wall irregularly, and brought forth two oddly shaped bowls, each with a kind of lid. He reached into another recess and placed a single brown egg and a thin slice of transparent grey fish on each lid, filling the bowls with a dark grey sludge, topped with a single scoop of something white. "We are a little short on things right now, but there is always spring-krill and lichen aplenty."

When Byleist had handed each of them a bowl, Loki looked at it, then looked at his cousin's empty hands. "Do you not eat with us?" he softly inquired, raising an eyebrow and frowning, even as he watched the face of the Jotun carefully for any sign of deceit, of betrayal.

"I will have some krill and lichen. We have little food now and I have had my midday meal." Byleist looked embarrassed. "Our last raid was a month ago and we will have to go again tonight or tomorrow, but it is dangerous and we have few who can do it. The others are asleep. I stayed awake because yesterday, returning from scouting the False Loki's outpost storehouse, I saw you again – in the Asgardian form you wore before when you came with them. I took it for a sign of hope. Now that you are here, the misfortunes that have dogged our people since you were stolen will perhaps come to an end.

* * *

Steve watched the interaction between the two Jotuns carefully, wondering how this would turn out. They were mostly ignoring him, watching each other, and this had been a prime opportunity for observation.

First of all, it seemed that here, at least, might be a kingdom that would welcome Loki's rule. How that might turn out was completely uncertain, and Steve suspected that the possibilities would haunt his nightmares for awhile. Would he be a good king, or would he make everyone miserable?: Would he decide to invade every neighbor, like some other leaders with issues Steve could think of? What would be the deciding factors? He'd definitely shown both a hunger for power, and a taste for worship that worried the soldier. The scene from Germany was still fresh in his mind: the kneeling crowd, a ring of Loki's illusions, with Loki himself standing ready to strike an old man who refused to be cowed into submission. Only his appearance on the scene with the vibranium shield had stopped a murder.

Secondly… it was strange. Loki had said something about Jotuns being debased and from the look on his face when he was handed food, he didn't trust them not to poison guests. Yet this one seemed to have more than a little hero-worship for Loki.. Hero-worship was something Steve could recognize from miles off, and this one was simply broadcasting it.

Also, the secret hideout, the difficulty arranging food, the group sleeping through the day, leaving one member on watch: the soldier knew what a resistance movement looked like. They'd helped him in Europe, and here was another. Plus, who was the False Loki? Byleist had said something about purges, which didn't sound promising. Overall, the soldier concluded, he'd have to stay sharp and look about him. Loki was his only hope of survival, but he also knew the demigod might be planning something horrible, in which case, he would have to stop it at all costs.

* * *

Loki waited until the Jotun had begun to eat. He could be certain of nothing. The attempt by Captain Rogers to conceal his presence had been simply awful. Could he truly dissemble no better than that? How had the mortal survived to adulthood? Loki could appreciate a well-crafted lie, but the pitiful attempt at omission had been annoying. And the Jotun: he claimed kinship, though why any should claim kinship with one left to die was puzzling. Although if he had not been merely left to die, that would explain the inconsistencies in the All-Father's story of Loki's infancy. How exactly one left to die would work as a pawn in a peace negotiation was a point that had only occurred later, when he was falling through the void. Opportunities for conversation with Odin had since been limited.

Seeing no guile in Byleist's face, Loki attempted the porridge. It was untainted so far as he could tell. He also had begun to revise a little of his earlier view of the Jotnar – certainly this one had been well-spoken and polite. The food, while certainly not what he had been accustomed to as a prince, was given generously. Equally generously given had been recognition as a Royal Prince. Loki wondered briefly about the welcome, about the apparent poverty of his host who should be wealthier if he were so closely related to the Royal House. Loki knew palace intrigue like he knew knives. Both were weapons in the right hands, and he could smell the intrigue on this situation.

Even with the delayed start, and the careful use of Asgardian palace manners, he still finished his porridge before the others. Captain Rogers looked over at him, perhaps remembering the packets of food Loki had devoured in Midgard, and passed half his portion to the demigod. Knowing himself to be the only possible hope the soldier had of survival reassured him that Captain Rogers was unlikely to make an attempt on his life without confirmation of nefarious plans. Even were he to make plans the Captain would disapprove of, Loki was certain he would be able to finesse the situation to his favor.

Another point which had been working in his head was this issue of a "False Loki". Someone had dared to impersonate him, apparently, someone who must be brought to understand the depths of that mistake. He would draw the story out of Byleist later, but for now, his energy was flagging, even with the partial share of extra food. Allowing a portion of his weariness to show, Loki turned to the Jotun.

"I am afraid that my escape from Asgard was indeed wearying, and would revive myself if I might."

Byleist looked again at him with those shining eyes. "If it please you, Your Highness, we have facilities for bathing, and then we can give you chambers. Do you wish privacy or to be housed with your companion?"

Loki considered the choice. He tended to prefer privacy, and had made that preference well known within the Asgardian palace. But in the uncertainty of the current situation, having another to stand guard might be the course of wisdom. If he needed to rid himself later of an encumbrance, plans could be made. Very well. "My companion has come far with me, and I wish him to have the dignity of my chambers." The smile which accompanied this was charming and simple, one which had set many courtiers at rest when Loki had wished to reassure them.

* * *

Byleist picked up a basket and led the way through another dark tunnel, this one sloping down until it began to be lit by phosphorescent lichens. By the dim glow, Steve watched the Jotun gathering mosses, fungus, and other lichens to place in the basket. Apparently, this was one source of the food abovestairs. As they rounded an outcropping of rock, an unfamiliar smell surprised the two visitors, followed by a sound like lapping water, and an even deeper chill in the air. As they entered a large, subterranean chamber, Steve saw the glint of liquid and a haze of strange gasses, slightly luminescent in the darkness.

"Here is the source of our krill, Your Highness, and you will find a bathing chamber where the lake pours down into a deeper river." Here he led the way to a chamber recessed from the main lake chamber. It was lit by more of the strange glow, and it was obviously intended as a group bathing chamber, with cold liquid upwelling from some underground source, joined by a stream flowing from the lake.

Byleist excused himself to go harvest more krill from the lake, leaving them to bathe. Loki, apparently comfortable with this, removed his armor and slid into the bubbling, frigid pool. Steve showed considerably more trepidation, but followed the example set by the demigod. His human body would have frozen through at the touch of whatever this was, but the Jotun body he currently wore seemed to relax into the cold, drawing strength from the icy liquid.

Loki smiled and stretched into the cold. For once, the smile was neither a cruel smirk nor a fierce baring of teeth, but seemed indeed a smile of genuine pleasure. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the pool's edge. "Really, Captain, I give you leave to be honest if you can lie no better than that attempt in the cave. To protect me, no? Well meant, but poorly executed."

Stiffly, Steve replied, "Since my life currently depends on making sure you stay alive and with a certain amount of energy, I felt it best that your presence not be revealed until we knew if he presented a threat. I am not the one of us who seems to prefer lies to the truth."

"Well, no, of course you are not." The smile tipped slightly more toward sly, as Loki opened his eyes a little to consider the soldier through hooded green eyes. "But then, neither were you raised a prince. You may or may not trust me – your choice, really, but I can assure you that the life even of a very young prince requires a certain… flexibility with facts. Thor's gift is to actually believe all the lies he utters, even if they sometimes contradict one another. Mine is to know which are which, but tell them anyway, and frequently to tell the truth as though it were a lie, and vice versa, of course. Incidentally, I strongly suspect that it will be my skill as a prince that will give us the time I need to recover here, so that I can get rid of you back to Midgard and continue with my own affairs."

* * *

Clint and Tony were still arguing with each other, while Bruce caught up on a nap in one of the bedrooms, when JARVIS announced a connection was being established by Director Fury. Tony rolled his eyes, muttering something about creating a program specifically to recognize SHIELD operatives and block them from gaining access to his network.

"I presume there's a reason why you are relaxing there, wherever it is, rather than defending the civilian population of Manhattan, which just so happens to be witnessing another round of bright blue energy rays. Would you gentlemen care to comment on this?"

At this, Tony rounded on Clint. "See, even Mother says we should be in the city. Let's get Bruce and go! JARVIS, if Captain America should show up here, let him in, then contact me on my communicator. If Loki shows up with ransom demands or something, patch him through on the communicator. I hope that's good enough for everybody!"

"Not quite, Stark. I've got the helicarrier. We're headed for your position and will be there in approximately one hour. Be ready. We'll brief you as we head East."

* * *

After the bath, they'd been led to a sleeping chamber – actually a cave with sleeping niches carved from the rock, but like everything in the place that he'd seen so far, gracefully proportioned and shaped. Loki, fully armored but still without the helm, had collapsed into a niche far from the entryway and fallen asleep, but not before arranging with Steve to wake him should anything happen. The captain had begun to wonder if he would be granted leave to sleep at all, though he had not yet come close to hitting his tolerance for being awake. He wished desperately for his sketch journal and pencils. He could be busy for weeks, just capturing the ways that the textures worked with each other.

He found himself thinking of the delicate frost patterns he'd seen in the first room they'd been brought to, as his fingers trailed over the rock entry to the room they were in. Only, here, they should be shaped to the texture of this rock, the shape of this entry. He began picturing it in his mind, running fingers over the bare rock. Only after the patterns he'd been picturing began to actually appear did he notice the cold gathering at his fingertips, the feeling not like the electricity of Loki's magic, but like the smooth, upwelling flow of the pool in the bathing chamber. He drew his fingers back, feeling guilty like a child caught drawing on the walls.

But he also began wondering what more he could do. He thought of Byleist creating and removing doorways at will. Perhaps this could be made into other shapes. He tried imagining the same feeling of cold, shaping it along his forearm until it resembled first a kind of armlet, and later, a smaller version of his own shield. Slowly, the crystalline shield formed, until he heard the familiar soft voice behind him.

"If you hope to use it in your usual manner, I think you'll be disappointed. It won't detach as easily, and of course, it's heavier and not as hard, more likely to shatter than bounce. In any case, Jotnar usually go more for up close fighting, like Asgardians. They make ice clubs, swords and knives that wrap around their hands. Personally, I've found that throwing knives are considered 'sneaky', but they're amazingly effective." The tone of voice was cool, impersonal, and when the captain turned to look at him, Loki was lounging on one elbow and had on what Steve had come to think of as his princely face, one the soldier had seen all too much of when Loki had been imprisoned on Earth. The demigod had seemed to regard his captors as a form of honor guard when walking to his prison. It had been disturbing at the time, particularly when the rest of the Avengers had descended into squabbling, while he had appeared to relax and enjoy the chaos erupting around him.

"Actually, I hadn't specifically been thinking of that. You see, I found myself drawing on the walls, and decided to find a better way of keeping myself occupied." Steve gestured toward the light traceries of frost he had unwittingly created earlier. "But I would appreciate any instruction you could give me in a fighting style that will work with this body. I don't always sleep well and frequently occupy the long watches with exercise and training. I can go into the hallway if I'm disturbing you."

Loki gestured with his free hand in acknowledgement. "The perfect soldier, in short. I think that I will rest better for knowing I am so well-guarded. I was told all my life of the brutality and mindlessness of the Jotnar. Asgard has been at war with Jotunheim for longer than anyone can easily remember, millennia by now, I think. I came up with a way to end the war without risk to Asgard, possibly saving many Asgardian lives, but it was considered dishonorable and so Thor stopped me in such a way that I fell into a wormhole. The irony was that I had just been told that I myself was Jotun and thought that thus I could prove myself Asgardian. I wondered while falling into eternity if the simple fact of my ancestry was why I could never do the right thing." His smile remained, the detached, dispassionate turning up of the corners of his mouth. It never reached his eyes.

"I suggest, if you wish to practice something, you practice forming and unforming ice for different needs. It is a skill intrinsic in the Jotun form, but I do not know how long it will require to become proficient. Such a question does not usually arise." Loki rose from his position and gestured at the other niches, his thin smile visible in the dim glow. "If you would prefer a nap, I am awake to defend myself if necessary."

* * *

Loki hoped that the show of honesty would help win over Captain Rogers, who had shown such suspicion of deceit. Really, of course, deceit and honesty were simply two ways of communicating, and each had their uses. As he'd pointed out earlier, sometimes a prince had to lie simply because that's the way the court worked. Other courtiers understood that delicate balance, but this captain was no courtier, and required delicate handling. Unfortunately, even as he was saying the words, he felt his face freeze into stiffness, concealing the inner agony of that betrayal. And so, he rose, hoping to turn the conversation off or elsewhere.

The mortal simply looked at him another moment, then replied, "No, like I said, I don't sleep well. If I'm tired, I can't feel it right now. Should we wait for them? If you like, we could get in some sparring practice." He paused a moment, then looked directly at Loki. "Unless you need to get more rest before doing something like that. Not that I can even pretend to give you a match if we're using any kind of magic." He gave a grin that signaled a willingness to be friendly. Perhaps he'd picked up on the honesty of the confession after all.

"I am disinclined to wait. Let us seek out our hosts; though if you will give me a moment, I feel I should freshen our appearance, at least. Neither of us is dressed in the manner of Jotnar, but we should at least present a respectable appearance." Here, the sizzling green energy again appeared at his fingertips, and he gestured sharply at both the captain and himself, setting them roughly in order. The energy drain still registered more than he liked, but one of the duties of a courtier was to always appear in good order. Indeed, were they in the Asgardian court, Loki would have been inclined to insist on the captain wearing armor befitting his rank, with decorations indicating service to himself, both affording the protection of his own status and enhancing the princely importance. Not that that was possible at the present time, given the sentence still hanging over him. And Jotnar customs were different, obviously.

* * *

The two made their way back through the lake chamber and up the dark passage toward the first chamber, but stopped in the shadows when they heard the argument underway. Loki made a shushing motion with his hand toward Captain Rogers, and pulled him silently into deeper shadow.

A strange voice burst out in a furious tone, "Byleist, you mean you led two total strangers here, and used up part of our dwindling food supply I might add, because you haven't let go of the fairy tales your mother told you when you came to her knee?"

"I already planned to eat only porridge for tonight's meal and tomorrow's. I tell you, this is the true Loki. I've seen him with my own eyes among the Asgardian dogs that came to enslave us. He has escaped them and has my allegiance, both now and when we can convene a proper Jotunmoot! My mother's sister, Queen Farbouti, rejected the false Loki. She was the first to be purged because she would not lie and call him the son she had mourned for centuries. I saw him murder her with an ice knife. I was there, awaiting entry to the queen's chamber with a message from her sister. With both king and queen dead, I knew my duty was to prepare to resist, and I came here."

"Oh, even better! Not merely strangers, but Asgardian spies and traitors. King Laufey had the measure of the Asgardians. He even told them to their faces they were a nest of traitors. And shortly after, they attempted to kill us all, succeeding in killing our King and most of the court. If that had not happened, the False Loki could have done nothing, but now we suffer under him because of the foul, brutish instincts of those murderers, and you've just led two of them to our hidden defenses. If it weren't for your courtly connections, I would have difficulty imagining why King Laufey would have let you be a servant, never mind a soldier in the King's Guard."

At this, Loki emerged from the shadow into the light of the chamber, saying smoothly, "I should imagine he recognized loyalty when he saw it. A useful trait, I think you will agree, in one who must manage a kingdom." The smile he cast on the stranger glinted with bared teeth.


	4. Chapter 4

Unsurprisingly, Natasha met them at the docking site once Clint had gotten everyone to his plane and up to the helicarrier. She distributed folders as she walked. "We have no idea who's behind this. It doesn't appear to be Chitauri. So far as we know, the Tesseract is not on Earth at this time. Wait. Where's Cap? She stopped and faced the others.

Tony shook his head. "Right now? Serious MIA shit going on. I had the staff, but it started going critical, so we moved it here, figuring if we could catch Loki early on, it would be a much better way to go than last time. Loki did show up, but the staff disappeared at the same time. Knowing his favorite thing is to talk, we gave him an opportunity, but he claims not to have the staff, and oddly enough – I'm probably crazy here, but I might believe him on that one, since I saw that he had the Tesseract. He also claims his last visit was coerced by the Chitauri and possibly somebody else, but I don't think I'm buying shares in that one. Everyone's favorite Robin Hood showed up, and Loki disappeared with Cap. Since then, I've been arguing with him to get our asses to New York or the West Coast."

"Bozhe moi. Fury's gonna love this one."

* * *

The tension in the room was thick. Byleist had eyes only for Loki, still shining with hero worship, and now Steve had at least some idea where it was coming from. To him, Loki was like the return of King Arthur, ready to lead the Knights of the Round Table to final victory over the enemies of Britain. Steve could remember having a very similar fantasy when he'd been beaten on constantly: one day, someone would show up to make everything better, someone who would make you a hero. It had sort of happened for him, but Loki as miracle-bringer was a questionable concept at best in the captain's opinion.

Loki and the new Jotun stood facing each other. Loki was shorter, but his stance was solid, shoulders back, chin lifted, the glitteringly contemptuous smile every bit as dangerous as the various small knives Steve knew Loki had secreted about his person. And this was exactly _why_ Loki was so dubious a hope. Whether he meant to or not, and Steve wasn't sure right now which was the truth, the demigod had a habit of sowing chaos and dissention wherever he went.

"I am Loki. I was raised Odinson, but discovered from Odin himself that I am Laufeyson. Beyond the lying tongue of Odin, I have also as record of my identity the testimony of a kinsman. I understand that someone else has dared to usurp my name. He will regret that presumption in no very distant time. In the meantime, you have business you would discuss with me?" The arrogant arch of that brow was one the captain remembered well from the footage of Loki's interactions with Director Fury. He had at that time located the camera on his cell, making sure to occasionally address it, as well as the man standing just outside the cage. Loki would remain aware not only of the person he was speaking to, but always of the audience.

"Loki Odinson, then? And what should we care for some disgusting whelp of the Aesir? For you speak as they speak, you dress as they dress, assuredly you think as they think. No doubt Vanaheim has need to be reminded of your power. Perhaps you might steal their people's treasures and kill them off as well. Oh, no… I forgot. You simply took their treasures and their children. Apparently, blue skin doesn't go so well with your golden towers." The Jotun glared down at Loki.

Unexpectedly, Loki laughed, a deep, resonant sound that filled the chamber. "Am I meant, as a stolen child myself, to resent that remark? I can certainly report that the Aesir do not like the look of blue with their golden towers, but I doubt you are much surprised. They were not best pleased to have me among them, though Odin certainly did his best to conceal my origins. Even he, however, could not conceal the truth after I had come to Jotunheim and had my wrist gripped in battle with a Jotun. No magic in the worlds could then conceal the truth of my parentage, though Odin would have preferred it did, no doubt, for when I went to confront him with the truth, he escaped into the dreams of Odinsleep. I sincerely doubt there is much bad you could say of the Aesir that I could not top."

"As for my speech, my dress, I was stolen by the Aesir. Do you believe they keep Jotun nannies on hand to properly educate any Jotun princelings they happen to steal?" The elegant arch of Loki's eyebrow spoke volumes about his opinion on that. "And I think perhaps that it was the fact that I do _not_ think as they think that most infuriated both parties." His voice took on the hint of a silken edge and his eyebrows drew softly together with his next words. "As for my patronymic, I'm quite certain I said that it was _not_ Odinson. I tend to be very clear on that subject. If you'd like, you could ask the warrior who accompanies me what I did the last time I was upset over being misnamed. As I recall, he grew rather… distraught over the results. Speaking of patronymics, I believe I know neither your name nor your patronymic."

"I am Helblindi son of Egdir. And unlike Byleist Naljarson, I do not have fairy tales dancing in my head, so don't think to play me for a similar fool. My interest is in ridding us of Utgard Loki – he who has taken residence in the Utgard fortifications that previously sat outside Thruthheim, our capitol, which is now gone, and lives by theft and other evils. If, as you say, you are no friend of Utgard Loki, then you may prove it tonight, you and your companion, by helping us to rob him of food."

An intent look passed over Loki's face as he examined Helblindi's. "I believe I might enjoy that, especially if I am in on the planning. Tell me _everything_ about the fortifications and the Jotnar who guard them."

* * *

In the end, Loki walked into the fortification alone. Steve still wasn't happy about that part, but practiced making ice form on his arms, attempting to shape it and make it reasonably strong. He could form something like the shape of his shield, but it was heavy as Loki had warned. He tried forming a sword, but then tested it against the nearest bit of ice and watched it shatter. An ice club worked a little better, but he suspected that when the Jotnar gathered to practice this evening, his attempts would be seen for the simple efforts of a child.

* * *

Loki smiled to himself, a mere tightening of the corners of his mouth which turned them slightly down, as his eyes sparkled with banked mischief. This should be interesting. The information had, naturally, been incomplete. Helblindi had approached the problem as a military situation and in so doing, had limited his options. Loki saw no reason for such limitations, and had instead asked the Jotnar to give Captain Rogers a chance to train with them, while Loki saw to obtaining food and proving himself.

To say the least of it, Helblindi had been reluctant to allow it. He worried that the stranger, through capture or treachery, would reveal everything. Captain Rogers was staying, not only to train, but as a hostage against Loki's good faith. The look the captain had given him at that arrangement had been complex, part fear, part warning, part… something else, maybe trust. Loki tasted the unfamiliar texture of that emotion applied to himself, and wondered at his own response to it, the feeling of obligation he already felt tightening within.

And so he set off without obvious weapons or companions. Instead he had been given a name, quite an important name, and a piece of information that might unlock that name for his use. He carried only the most carefully hidden of his knives, though still he dressed as an Asgardian rather than Jotun. Let the rumors start, he thought visciously; let whispers reach the court of the upstart. Let him begin to tremble on his stolen throne.

* * *

Loki arrived at the outpost, the winds swirling snow and ice crystals heavily about. Despite the lack of visibility, he spotted a guard concealed among the ice pillars that formed the outer ring of fortification and approached directly, a smooth smile subtly transforming the narrow face, indicating apparent peaceful intent.

"Good greetings to you and all of the household! I am Loki of Asgard and I come with news for your leader, Gangr son of Olvaldi. Send to tell him I am here, wishing to have speech with him. What I have to say will interest him greatly."

* * *

Steve forced his worries down as the warriors gathered in a cavern leading off the underground lake. Again, it was lit by the same dim glow, and the captain began to wonder if perhaps the glow was an artifact of the new body. He suspected that a human would see nothing in the underground caverns beyond darkness.

It had been agreed that he should merely observe at first, and so he sat at the edge of the arena, watching as the Jotnar sparred with each other, analyzing the movements, the way they trained, not as individuals, but as a corps. Each team in the melee was composed of Jotnar of differing sizes and speeds. Large, strong Jotnar provided the bulwark against which the other team fought, sweeping the space around them with thick staves of ice, while smaller, more agile Jotnar darted in and out of the fray, producing small icicles which they would use to score 'hits' against the other team. Skillful use of magic was every bit as important as the strength of a large Jotun.

Some shared sense of the tide of battle seemed to unite the efforts of each team. One Jotun would shift tactics subtly, and the other members of the team would likewise change styles to further the effort. It was like a deadly ballet and the soldier found himself wishing he had the recording technology that Tony had embedded in the Iron Man suit. Some of the movement was simple enough to follow, but other parts were a whirl of action, feints, and counterstrikes too fast to follow, even with the new Jotun eyes which had caught more even than he thought he could follow with his serum-enhanced human body. All of it was valuable. Perhaps when he returned to New York, he could explain what he had seen to the other Avengers, for use in their own sparring.

Steve knew, watching the warriors before him, that Loki's request that he train with them had been an attempt to humor both himself and the Jotnar, as well as a way to rid Loki of the captain's inconvenient company before he went on whatever plan he'd hatched. Quite frankly, it gave the soldier the heebie-jeebies to even think about what the trickster might be up to, so instead, he began calling the cold feeling back into his hands, imagining the feel of a perfect Brooklyn shush ball, heavy, wet, and cold, but not solid ice. This was much harder to do than the ice shapes had been and he suspected that the finished product was still more ice than slush, but he tested his work by throwing the ball against a corner perhaps fifteen feet away, though adjusting to his new size left him uncertain that his estimates of size or distance bore any relationship to reality.

Whatever his intent, the immediate effect was to stop the beautiful choreography of the melee. One of the smallest Jotnar ran to the remains of the slush ball, kneeling and prodding at it. Another joined him, and they began to speak in rapid whispers. Byleist quickly joined the conference while Helblindi turned to confront the soldier.

"I thought you said you were of Midgard. How, then, do you know to make ice at all, for even sorcerers do not make ice in the way of the Jotnar, but must resort to illusions or summoning from elsewhere. I should have known the Aesir impostor would foist his spy on us in the name of leaving a surety." His glare was like a weight on Steve's shoulders.

At this, Byleist left the conference in the corner to join them. "It is like no ice I have seen before, Helblindi – soft, not hard, and it leaves the hand, like a piece of frost art." Here, he turned to face Steve. "Is this some weapon of Midgard? I had heard it was a hot realm, like Asgard and that even your breath in your proper form, will melt frost. How, then, do you make this?"

The soldier felt self-conscious for a moment, almost like the first time he'd stepped in front of the ausience to sell war bonds as Captain America. "It was an accident. You see, I'd noticed the designs in the first chamber we were brought to. At home, I'm a soldier, a warrior I guess you'd say, but also an artist. To distract myself during a watch while Loki slept, I imagined the sort of designs I would make as my fingers were touching the wall. My fingers felt… cold – like the bath, and then the designs began to appear. When I noticed that I was drawing on your walls with the frost, I stopped because it is very rude where I am from to draw on walls, especially without permission. I really didn't expect that to happen, so I want to apologize.

"After I saw what I had done, I was embarrassed. So I started to try to make shapes from ice, like I'd seen Byleist make doors." By now, all the Jotnar were gathered around him, silent, faces impassive. Even Helblindi was listening without the glare. "Since it would be rude to draw on your walls, I turned to my other skill to see if I could make a shield of ice. You see, I think the job of a warrior should be to defend the weak, so I make a defensive tool, rather than something to kill with."

"Just now, I watched your practice and knew it would take a long time to integrate my skills with your fighting style, especially since though Loki assures me that it is something any Jotun can do, I am not confident in my ability to make ice. It seems to me that if I'm to be of any use to you at all, I should fix that." With his next words, Steve's mouth twisted wryly. "In winter, where I'm from, children fight with snow that falls and ice from the ground. They pack them into balls and throw them. If there's more snow, it stings and can make it hard to see. But when there's ice in it, it can wound." Looking around at the still-silent Jotnar, the captain wondered whether he'd just dug himself into a big hole without Loki to pull him back out. Much as he hated to admit it, those princely diplomatic skills did have some use, especially here, where the customs were so very foreign. On that thought, he noticed that his recital had faltered to a halt.

A particularly craggy Jotun stepped forward. "Tell us more about these battles, warrior."

* * *

"Blue and green lights have been zipping through the air all over the five boroughs, but especially Manhattan. Nobody knows what to make of them. The universities are trying to figure out what it is. One psych prof went on TV to insist it's a mass hallucination caused by the stresses of modern life, while the physicists are mumbling about spectra and energy release. The chemists are wondering if it's methane from a sewer leak, and some damned preacher is screaming about end times on the radio." Director Fury's mouth twitched in a grim smile. "There's a gathering mob in Times Square. Whatever the hell this is, I want the Avengers there to stop it. Don't disappoint me, people."

Tony stretched to find a more comfortable position in the sleek chairs of the meeting room. "Yeah, that's great – moving Christmas lights are totally an Avengers special. I thought I'd made it clear that I can't solve the problem if you're going to play games and not give up the variables. So how is it that instead of calling in the high energy physicists and letting a few of them play with your toys, you've once more called on me, despite my admitted personality issues?"

"How about because the last time there was a light show over Manhattan was when Loki had the Tesseract? Which he seems to have again, along with Captain America. That is a hard blow to take, I have to tell you. We need people to see that we're able to handle whatever this is, so I want you in the suit over Times Square. The big thing is to let people see you. And be ready."

"Agent Barton, we have a vantage point ready for you in one of our offices. Agent Romanov, we want you on the ground. Banner, just stay out of the way, unless you can trace the energy somehow."

Tony shook his head. "Nice try, really, it is. Problem is, I've attended shareholder meetings and given them the same runaround. Also, if all I'm doing is a PR stunt, I'm pretty sure Pep would rather it was for our new initiative. So what piece of information are you holding back, or do I have to prove, again, that I can hack your system the way you keep hacking mine?" With that, he turned on his heel and marched out.

Footsteps behind him caused Tony to pause for a second, then whirl around, ready for a further confrontation. Bruce gave him a weary smile, and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "So we're headed for Stark Tower, I guess. What then?"

Tony grinned. "Actually, I want to suit up, anyway. I just don't want to be part of whatever PR show Fury's cooking up, especially since the one-eyed bastard is always trying to tell me what to do without telling me what he's up to. I want you to man the computers here, since you'll maybe spot patterns I don't, and the visual readouts in the suit are necessarily more compressed than the ones at the worktable. Everybody and their brother is probably taking the broad-spectrum approach, and I want to get a quick broad-spectrum look, but let's see where the weird readings are, because there will be weird readings."

Bruce's face was more serious. "I don't like Fury's games, either. I spent years avoiding them, but I also know he doesn't give up easily. Watch yourself out there."

* * *

Loki had been led to a room deep within the fortification, where Gangr sat before the remains of a large meal, leaning back in contentment. "I was told you had something to interest me, though I count no 'Loki of Asgard' among my acquaintances. You are certainly dressed as a foreigner." His eyes flicked over the heavy leather and brass armor. "And you have an odd accent, but either could be a ruse by these dreamers in the hills who insist on denying reality."

Loki made an airy gesture, an amused look settling on his face. "I could, you know, give proofs unlikely to be known by those who dwell in the wilderness. But could you know them for truth yourself? I rather doubt that you have seen Odin's throne room, or know the gossip of his court. In any case, you will likely want to report my visit to others who will be interested, just in case." He gestured again. "Feel free to do your duty, after I leave." His smile was feral suddenly. "I will be leaving, but not until after I have done what I came for."

Sweeping his eyes over the room, he spotted the items he sought, picking them up from a sideboard and tossing them gently to the seated Jotun. "I would try my luck against yours."

Gangr eyed him idly tossing the dice from hand to hand. "A bet? Aside from your gaudy Aesir armor, for which I have no use, what could you have to offer as a stake?" His eyes watched Loki intently, even as he scoffed, waiting for a stake to be named, an excuse to dice.

Loki's eyes grew sly. "Oh, but warrior, I have the best stake of all, your enemies delivered into your hands. Glory. Recognition. Information. Not far from here, there are those who plot your downfall and the downfall of your prince. I have all the information you need to take them effortlessly, and I am willing to bet it against a little thing. Allow me into your food stores to take all the food I can carry." The face showed not a hint of smile, only a serious look as the eyes lifted from contemplating his own hands to flicker over the Jotun's face, and back down to watch the play of the dice through the other's hands.

"Why should you not simply trade this information for the food you want? If your information is as good as you say it is… Or perhaps, I should summon the guard on the other side of this door and allow you to contemplate my hospitality until you talk."

An eyebrow elegantly lifted as lithe fingers picked up a nut, dancing it along his knuckles. "I am… oddly reluctant to turn traitor to those who have given me succor. Believe me when I say that I am unlikely to be held against my will for long, and my vengeance would be swift against any who tried. Among those I do not wish to betray, there is a warrior who could testify to my thirst for revenge." The sudden smile which illuminated his face seemed to startle the commander.

"But I did not come to deal in threats – nor will I be swayed by them. We each desire something. This way, I have a chance at what I want without cost, and so do you. Besides, I have heard of your enjoyment of games of chance. I, too, enjoy that moment of casting my own fate to the winds, seeing what the Norns may grant me." His eyes slid to the Jotun, waiting for a reaction, even as the other stared, fascinated, at the nut moving between the long fingers. "But let us first try a lesser stake. A proof of my identity that you may show your superiors if they wish to confirm my claims." Loki reached up to his throat, unhooking the metal collar from his armor. "You see my sigil there, no? Perhaps others have had more dealings with Asgard."

The raised eyebrow invited a counter-stake. Gangr grinned. Perhaps the stranger would at least prove entertaining. But this should be spun out – dice went too quickly. With luck, this diversion could last all night. "Perhaps instead of the turn of the dice, we should play at Hnefatafl – the king's board. And I will stake a handcart that you might carry more supplies with you."

Loki's eyes gleamed. "Done. Will you first attack or defend the king?"

* * *

After what he had come to think of as the snowball moment, Captain Rogers had somehow become part of the group of Jotnar. At first, it had been descriptions of snowball fights and ambushes, then they had demanded to watch him make slushball after slushball, until a few of them could reproduce them. They had practiced throwing at the same corner he had used. The craggy Jotun, who had introduced himself as Thrym son of Mimir, seemed to think that this could be a secret weapon in their fights and invited Steve to lob a few of the slushballs hoarded at his feet into the melee. At first, it had been pandemonium, but slowly, they had learned to duck, turning heads to avoid impact, and move more swiftly to create a more difficult target. All in all, however, Thrym had been right – this was an excellent surprise weapon for the small cadre.

Now, relaxing once more into the deep cold of the pool, this time accompanied by the Jotun warriors, he could feel the cold flowing into him, replenishing the ability to generate ice. But deep inside, another kind of freezing gripped his heart, as he absorbed the camaraderie of the Jotnar. Here were another group of friends that he was bonding with, even as he knew it couldn't last, that once again, he would have to let go.

Thrym, sitting beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know that look, Steve of Midgard. You and I both know what it is to lose our brothers in arms, to know they will never return. I lost my own brother when the bitch of Aelfheim invaded. I was only a boy, playing at being a warrior, when suddenly it was all too real. I made the mistake of looking at her and fell into her glamour. I would have thrown myself on a spear to please her, except my brother who guarded me rather than himself, swung his staff to hit me on the head. One of her soldiers cut him down while he did it."

"That was the worst loss, but then came the Aesir invasion and all the trouble that followed. And I still do not understand why they invade. We are too cold for Elves or Aesir to live here. And they are too hot for our Jotun blood."

"In any case, the warlike spirit of those two worlds has now come here. Our children aspire to be warriors, not herdsmen and poets, as of old. If their desire was to destroy us, they have succeeded."

* * *

Loki looked down at the board, his face a mask of disappointment as he slid the collar over to Gangr. Through stiff lips, he complemented the clever play which had allowed the Jotun to rescue his king in one fewer move. Carefully, he held himself off from making any move toward the next game, knowing that now Gangr could be counted on to press for another.

First, though, he called for more refreshments. Loki smiled inwardly as a large tankard was placed before him. If the commander sought to make him drunk, he truly had no knowledge of Aesir court ways. He had more than once found himself pressed with another such tankard by Thor as a celebration had gone late into the night.

As the board was again set up, Loki relaxed internally, making sure to keep his posture straight to conceal his relief. This game would be easier. It was much simpler to win the game than to try to create a realistic loss by so short a margin. And this time, he could recognize more of Gangr's characteristic moves. Almost, he had the entire game mapped out before they had begun.

* * *

Getting back to Stark Tower had not been simple. Fury was still angry and there had been more shouting, but in the end, he'd had to point out that the most recent suit was in Stark Tower, so that's where he was going in any case. Besides, what better place for Bruce to stay out of Fury's way?

In any case, Tony had only stayed long enough to suit up. The new sensors were operating well, and the lights had not been difficult to find. They seemed to be _everywhere_. But there were concentrations, and _oh shit! _one of those concentrations was in the direction of Times Square. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_… the mantra unfolded in his head as he saw both the angry mob below and the zipping lights below. _Well, hell._ Looks like he was headed for Fury's freak show after all.

"Any news on the lights? – other than the blue/green spectrum, of course. Where are we on the gamma radiation? IR?"

"Nothing unusual, but… Tony, there's a weird bit in the radio frequencies. I think somehow there are extra point sources."

"Huh. Bet most of the researchers aren't looking there – I mean, radio waves in the Big Apple? Needle in a haystack work. Let's filter my visor for radio and see what we get. If it gets all psychedelic, we can change back."

As the filter sets in, Tony gives a low whistle. "Okay, I think you should turn on the visor's feed at your end, so I can know whether I'm imagining this shit."

Several moments later, Bruce just says, "Wow, um, no I don't think you're imagining it, unless there's something new in the air."

A minute later, Tony saw the screens over Times Square, all with the same image, and running through the text feeds the same message: The Queen of Aelfheim greets her new subjects. The only thing more frightening was to look down and see that the riot was over.

Author's note: Hnefatafl is a strategy game that was played by the old Norse. A variant on it was asserted to be a game of the Gods. Some versions of the game give an advantage to the player who plays the king's side, so I have decided that the version Loki plays with Gangr is a two-round game, with the winner being the one who is able to win in fewer moves.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony had just had time to assimilate the lack of a riot below when he realized the pale green overlays from the radio source outlines had begun to fill in with color, meaning they'd gone into the visible spectrum. "Um, Bruce, old buddy, I'm seeing some serious Lord of the Rings shit going down here. Any idea why Times Square might be filling up with flying elves? And I'm pretty sure they haven't hired all of these screens at one time. Even I thought the price was a little steep when we considered it for the green initiative."

The wave of sound from below pulled his attention again to the crowd, which had dropped to the knees. ('On a New York street?' reflected Tony.) A tiny figure could be seen floating low above the masses, and the image was suddenly broadcast through all the screens. Shit. "JARVIS, I need to talk to Fury, and hopefully, his freak show office overlooking this mess."

A moment later, Fury's voice sounded over the speakers. "What the hell is going on out there? I tried to raise the team, but they cut the damn link. Tried both Barton and Romanov on the cell phones, but nothing. And where are you?"

"I'm in Times Square, watching what look like oddly shaped Ren Faire extras flying around on branches. And I've gotta tell you: the crowd doesn't look like it's rioting. Some Redhead calling herself 'the queen of Aelfheim' seems to have taken over the Times Square displays – all of them, at once. Just where are your people, anyway?"

"Check the rooftops – we have a few of them staked out. At least in theory."

Tony did a quick flight around the edges. "Um, yeah. Found your bases. Your big, bad, scary ninja spies? They're kneeling, all of them. Clint and Natasha look… too happy. Houston, I think we have a situation."

* * *

Steve had finally collapsed in a deep sleep after the bath, forgoing even a meal as finally, finally, he could feel exhaustion giving way to sleep…

It felt only moments later that he startled awake, the chamber silent and lit only by the ever-present vague glow. But there, in the far corner, a Jotun cloaked in darkness, the faint gleam of red eyes looking straight at him. The captain sat up, pressing against the wall behind him, and for a moment, his fingers went on a desperate search for the shield that was still somewhere on Earth. As true consciousness returned, he realized he, too, was now a Jotun, feeling the swirling cold pooling in his fingers, and he raised them, ready to defend himself, when Loki stepped forward, the shadow revealing itself as his usual black armor, and a strange grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something else, though, was subtly off.

"Ah, awake, then. I believe our hosts will soon break their fast, and you are no longer called upon to act as hostage against my good behavior. Shall we join them?" Turning toward the door, he stalked out. Steve took a deep, calming breath, dissipating the urge to throw an iceball at the retreating back, then followed.

As they entered the chamber Steve now associated with meals, several Jotnar looked up. Helblindi's eyes were narrowed as he looked at Loki's self-satisfied saunter. "I hope the price was not too high."

The captain watched as Loki tilted his head, considering. "No, not too high. Nothing I was not prepared to pay, and before you ask, the only secrets I told were mine to reveal."

His face remained impassive, though the captain was certain he heard just an echo of bitterness in the final words. There was something still 'off' about him, more off than usual, or at least off from his usual self. It wasn't the bitterness – Loki had always seemed bitter to Steve, even when he was seemingly in control. Something was… missing, and it was going to drive him insane, he just knew it.

That moment of walking out of shadow… suddenly, he knew what was missing – that necklace, collar, whatever you wanted to call it, that had provided the one glimmer of light in the black armor. No wonder he had appeared to be in shadow. He moved to say something, when Loki cut him off.

"I can see the Midgardian warrior has just worked out part of the price I paid. And it's an important part." The prince tilted his face with an amused expression. "Well, go ahead, since you managed to work it out."

Steve shot him an unamused look. Clearly, Loki was back to playing power games, but the only reaction was an elegantly raised eyebrow and eyes that clearly laughed at the captain's discomfiture. "Your collar – over the breastplate, it's gone."

The look he received in return was that of a teacher successful in coaxing the correct answer out of a dull student. "Very good, Captain Rogers. Perhaps once I've returned you to the mortal world, you can teach the others to think." Suddenly, the narrow face hardened, revealing harsh planes and intent eyes. "In any case, yes, the collar is almost certainly on its way to Utgard, with my sigil on it and the name 'Loki of Asgard' on the lips of the messenger." Helblindi sucked in a harsh breath. "So I think we'd best be planning our next steps, no?"

* * *

Clint had never seen anyone so beautiful, so wise. _Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Not fucking again! _ He wanted nothing better than to win her favor, battle her enemies, do her will. _No, god, please, no. _The tiny voice, buried deep within the archer's soul, whimpered for a moment and then screamed, scrabbling desperately for a little more room even as the mind turned darkly against it. This time, it was determined, it would find a way to remain just below the consciousness; it would find a way to free itself. He was a survivor, and would somehow, however difficult it might seem, overcome this. He would not be made a mindless slave again. No matter how bad this got, he owed it to himself to _know _this time, to see what was being done, to formulate a plan for escape and overthrow. He deserved to keep himself.

He'd only just begun to sleep again at night, had only just managed to claw back from the nightmares that haunted him whenever he closed his eyes. He'd even begun to consider going back out into the wider field. The place in Montana had been Director Fury's idea, he knew – get him to Montana, away from everything. He'd spent his duty time observing from afar, and the rest of his time up in the mountains, looking at the world laid out below him from a perch up in the clean, clear air.

And then the call had come that Tony Stark was hiding something, possibly something to do with that damned staff, or scepter, or whatever the hell it had been… other than concentrated evil, that is. He knew how bad that was, what it could mean for the world. What it did mean to him.

He could still remember the first touch of the damned thing – ironic when you consider he'd struggled to remember all he'd done under its influence. He'd felt ice bloom through his chest for a second, felt himself begin to convulse with it, and then he'd suddenly felt himself begin to split, a warm, even oppressive happiness spreading through him, a certainty of his mission and his allies. In that moment of blinding enlightenment, he'd been thrown out of his own mind, his own body. Curled up in the pit of his soul, he blessed the nightmares that had allowed him to _remember _the feel of it, to recognize what was happening this time.

Let even a minute distraction take the rest of his concentration, and he fully intended to take himself back.

* * *

The planning had consisted basically of Loki informing the others that he planned to create a link to Utgard so they could travel there in no time, and then informing everyone that in order to do so, he would spend the rest of the day eating, bathing, and sleeping. Byleist had seemed to happily accept this, but Helblindi, naturally, had objections.

"How are we to know that this is not merely a delaying tactic while Utgard Loki's forces descend on us to our destruction? Perhaps this food is merely your payment for services rendered. We have only your word that it is not."

Loki looked grimly at the assembled Jotnar, his eyes flashing. "True, you have only my word for what has occurred. Perhaps I am the perpetual liar, even against my own interests." Here, he turned an amused look at Steve. "The Midgardian could likely make an argument for it, in fact." He paused, looking around the room. "But I pay my debts, both good and ill. I will not return your help with ill, nor will I allow the impostor to steal my name with impunity. Whatever your decision, this is my course of action." With that, he moved to the counter, claiming a large amount of food from the stores he had placed there.

* * *

Bruce continued to sort through the readings Tony had taken as Tony returned to Stark Tower. He looked up in surprise when he heard the door open and a heavy footstep through. Why in the world was Tony still in the suit?

His face must have reflected the question, because a moment later, the face mask came up. "There were hostiles flying over the landing pad, and I had no idea why the rest of New York seems to be going all misty-eyed, but I didn't want to join them. Speaking of, you seem to be fine. Any moments from the other guy?"

"No, nothing. Just lab time. All the… disturbance seems to be outside. Maybe the security measures here are doing their job? In any case, I think our next step should be doing some research on whoever this is. Do Fury's people know?"

"Unless they've been reading a lot of Tolkein, I don't think so. Seriously, you saw the sensor readings – tall, skinny… beings riding twigs through the air of Midtown. Hey, JARVIS, the sign said Aelfheim. What is Aelfheim?"

"According to Wikipedia, it is the home of the light elves, also known as elfhame or elfhome."

"Right, right. Bring up whatever we can find about elves. Bruce, I hope you've read more than "Lord of the Rings", because I'm pretty sure we don't have a handy neighborhood Balrog."

* * *

Steve would have been astonished at the meal Loki made, had he not already seen the survival meals he'd eaten at Tony's missile base. Here, he'd eaten an entire side of something Byleist had identified as a "frost boar". It looked like bacon, but was the size of an ox. Plus other things which had been less identifiable. He'd washed down the meal with what looked like a tankard full of honey. He suspected Loki had eaten his own weight and then some in one sitting. Frankly, the captain wondered where it had gone, since Loki retained the same rangy profile he'd always had.

Afterwards, they had gone to the baths where Loki had relaxed deep into the chill pool, and with a mere trace of a gesture had turned to Byleist. "You must have been a courtier, once. Tell me about the court then, and about its fall. I need to know everything."

"Laufey King's court was… well, Laufey King was my uncle, and a better uncle never lived. When I was a child, my mother, Nal, came to be a lady of the court of her sister, Queen Farbouti. When I was old enough, I was a page and would run errands for them." After his initial discomfort, Byleist relaxed into the story, glancing up at Loki's still impassive face as he continued. "The errands were little things, for the most part, and in the mornings, I was at my lessons, so I learned court ways, as well as receiving a soldier's training. Laufey King knew my heart was set on being a Warrior of the Throne, and gave me over to Thrym Mimirson, one of his personal guard, for such training." The look he gave Thrym was full of admiration and pride. "Not all are given such tutors, so you can see how kindly was His Majesty to me, a strong king for such sad times as he was given, but also a just and kindly one to his followers."

Thrym returned his look with one of a proud teacher. "Not all tutors are given such diligent or talented students."

Byleist flushed, but then his voice grew low and troubled. "I wished to be a warrior, knowing little of the sorrow it would bring me. I had just come of age and was given a place as a guard at the Ice Throne when the Aesir came, full of threats and violence." Here, he turned his face to Loki. "You were among them, of course, but rather than shout and seek out more to kill, you simply stood your ground and killed any who attacked you or your companions. I was nearby when your arm was grabbed. You did not see me, for which I was grateful, for I could see even then that you were a warrior who could easily have killed more than you did, whether through sorcery or through Aesir steel."

His red eyes glowed ruby as he continued. "When I saw what happened, I knew you must be the lost son of Laufey King." He grew silent for a moment. "I was angry then that the Aesir dared to flaunt their crime before us."

* * *

Loki's face was carefully neutral, but under his silken voice, a razor's edge waited. He could feel the calm stretched tight over rising fury and disbelief. "Crime? I take it, then, that I was not, as Odin claimed, merely left to die as an infant, perhaps because of my small size?"

Loki's question had the full attention of all the Jotnar present. Their faces were shocked. It was Thrym who spoke. "Look around you, Prince Loki Laufeyson. Do you not see we have warriors of every size? We Jotnar do not have so many children that we would lose even one, particularly one of royal blood. Odin Borson, Lord of the Gallows, is fonder of death than we." This pronouncement was greeted with grunts of affirmation by the Jotnar. "And all knew you had been born with the power of great sorcery. Such a gift is rare. You, my prince, were our hope for true independence from the carrion eaters of Asgard."

This, then, was the answer to the riddle posed on the day he'd discovered his Jotun nature. This was the purpose the All-Father had meant him for - he'd been more right than he'd known when he'd called himself just another stolen relic...

* * *

Steve found himself astounded at the unfolding story. Had Odin, whom Thor seemed to reverence, really told Loki that he was left to die as an infant, and for being small? Suddenly, Loki's difficulty with family made more sense. When he remembered Thor's statement back on the helicarrier, the almost-casual "He's adopted," Steve wanted to wince. Thor had been a brave ally in a desperate fight. He was friendly, open, golden, yet Steve wondered whether he'd have been able to befriend the Asgardian as his old self, the skinny, asthmatic kid whom everyone had picked on.

Here, it was Loki who was credited with restraint in his bloodlust, while Thor was the madman bent on conquest. He wondered for a moment if there were another pair of brothers who looked like the royal sons of Asgard, but with different personalities. His mind presented him with the image of Loki, riding a Chitauri hovercraft, laughing and firing into the streets of Manhattan. But noone had contradicted Byleist. Steve's mind felt as though he were trying to put together a puzzle, missing most of the pieces.

The soldier closed his eyes and simply concentrated on the feeling of swirling cold that seeped throughout him, a deep comfort to the Jotun body he wore, even as his mind sought to calm itself. Somehow, he would sort out the mess of this in his own mind, if nowhere else. Thor was not a bad guy, but Loki was beginning to seem less irredeemably bad, and somehow it felt like a betrayal of Earth to wonder what had brought him to the fierce fury he had unleashed with the Chitauri.

Steve even wondered for just the tiniest fraction of a moment whether he'd have eventually snapped had he not been given a chance. He didn't think so, but he would never truly know. He'd always had people to love him unconditionally. Noone had so much as suggested he should be killed for being weak. Perhaps that would have been enough to tip the scales. There but for the Grace of God… and with his eyes still closed, offered up a heartfelt prayer for the troubled being he was now allied with.

* * *

Loki was confused, his brain in a whirl. He had asked to know about the court in the hopes of learning about his enemies. Instead, he was discovering himself, Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Jotunheim. The very name and title ought to be abhorrent to him, he thought, yet the image being given him was seductive – a true prince, heir to the throne, his magics respected rather than scorned. Somewhere, there would be a catch to all this. Such sweetness dangled before him had always come with a terrible sting, and usually a price beyond easy reckoning.

But Byleist had resumed his tale. "After you left with them, I sought audience with Laufey King. I told him what I had seen, what I had suspected. He would say nothing, but His Majesty was always a quiet keeper of his own counsel. He took to sitting alone but for his guard in the Hall of Columns that remained in the destruction of the Temple where you were taken. I was there when you came to him, later. I heard your offer and believed that you had found the means of revenge for your taking, and for our freedom."

Loki simply looked around at the Jotnar. He had not spared so much as a glance at the guard during his audience with Laufey. Whatever had happened in his infancy, Laufey had certainly wanted him dead at the beginning of that audience, but had swiftly stayed his hand when Loki had spoken. Had he, too, believed that Loki had discovered the whole truth and intended revenge on Asgard in the name of Jotunheim? Was that the meaning of the final look Laufey had given him as Loki had proclaimed himself Odinson and aimed Gungnir? Had he been a monster, not for his Jotun nature, but by his Aesir upbringing? The thought made him want to burst out laughing and curl up crying at the same moment. By the Nine, the ironies of his life ever proved more bitter.

"It was the last I saw of him. He went to Asgard with a few of the more experienced guards, but none returned, and the very stones and ice of Jotunheim reached up to swallow us." Byleist looked bleak. "I had been sent with Queen Farbouti to Utgard, lest the cursed Aesir should come to take revenge for the attack on Odin the Deceiver. Had we remained behind in Thruthheim, we would have been swallowed like the rest of the court, like my mother."

The silence was thick, the faces of the Jotnar solemn, and one began a deep mournful sound, which was quickly echoed by a few of the larger Jotnar, while others began a high keening sound, wrapped about the first, the melodies interwoven and sad. As he listened to the song, Loki startled himself with the realization that this was the sound of the suffering he had caused by opening the Bifrost upon Jotunheim to rid the universe of frost giants. The melody interwove itself into his thoughts of the wars his adoptive family had started with Jotunheim, with Vanaheim, and not for the first time, wished that he had perished as he had fallen through the worlds. He would have paid the price for the suffering he caused, and his own suffering would have ended.

Or perhaps it would have been better if he'd never caused the suffering in the first place, better that Odin had left him to… not die. The new thought overlaid itself on the familiar one. Had Odin left him in the Temple, he would not have died, but been raised as the crown prince of a defeated people, yes, but…

Loki's hands clenched beneath the smoothly dancing surface of the pool, the nails nearly cutting into his hands as he fought down the urge to scream with frustration, grief, anger – all the bitter dregs of his worthless, monstrous self. Concentrate. Concentrate on the feeling of the cold filtering into this Jotun form, giving strength and power back, giving him the sorcery he will need to get this small band to Utgard, to stage a coup, to complete at least the first part of his plan. And, thank the Norns, at least the song is coming to a close, voices stilling so they are no longer pulling at the tatters he has left.

* * *

Steve listened to the heartbreaking music, still trying to unravel the story that had been told. It was a tangled puzzle, all bound around whatever offer of revenge Loki had made here last time. He suspected that whatever Thor's brother had offered to do, it had been bad, and obviously had failed. Steve knew that Thor had been banished to Earth for trying to start a war. It sounded as though the war had been here, and Loki had a bigger role in it than he'd really understood. Perhaps unleashing the Destroyer had been part of whatever deal he'd made with Laufey.

Or, he reminded himself, it could simply have been another of his complex feints and betrayals. Thinking he had 'solved' Loki was probably the fast route to a knife between the ribs. He shook the thought out of his head as the music ended.

Byleist broke the thick silence after several moments, saying, "That, Your Highness, was the beginning of the end. Queen Farbauti established Utgard as the capitol in exile and did her best to rule as regent, saying we must convene a Jotunmoot after determining the extent of the damage and whether there might be more survivors. She had what was left of the royal household accompany soldiers to look for survivors and salvage what could be saved." The look on Byleist's face was sad and proud, his red eyes flashing, even as the set of his jaw proclaimed his refusal to give in to grief. Steve would have known, he thought, that this story would not end well, if only by that look. He thought that maybe his own face looked like that when he thought of the people he had known before the ice claimed 70 years.

But Byleist was continuting, so he dragged his attention back. "We are now in the wilds that used to be our capitol. This cave was once the deep undercomplex of the temple for dedication, and it is the one gift the Swallowing gave us, for when the temple was destroyed by Odin Deceiver, we had no means of dedicating members of the Royal Blood to the throne. You were the last to be dedicated." There was a restless energy among the listening Jotnar, mutters about Odin with words in a foreign language that the captain could tell even without directly understanding were highly insulting to the king of the Aesir.

"So when a Jotun emerged from the outer provinces beyond Utgard, claiming to be Prince Loki, taken by a nurse of the royal household far into exile to preserve him from attempts on his life, there was talk of convening a Jotunmoot to confirm his rule, summoning a Lawspeaker, if any could be found. So he asked an audience of the queen." Byleist's voice broke on the word.

* * *

Loki inwardly raged. So the All-Father had meant him to secure peace, had he? More like he'd meant his 'younger son' to be a puppet king for Asgard over Jotunheim! By stealing the crown prince, making certain no possible alternatives could have full legitimacy, and then concealing all of this from Loki himself... It all made sense, along with those teasing hints that both he and Thor were meant to be kings. Yes, Odin had meant Thor to rule over Asgard, and Loki to content himself with pacifying and ruling a subject Jotunheim, but always second - both himself and the realm of his birth, made to be ruled by Odin and his get. Just why _did_ Asgard insist on calling him a liar, anyway? He'd yet to even equal the bastard who'd raised him for sheer weight of deceit.

Well, at least he'd scotched that little plan, he thought grimly. Even without the upstart pretender, Loki had no intention of dancing to Odin's piping. His lips curled in a triumphant smirk as he realized he'd done even better in his plan for escape than he'd realized when he made it. Now both stolen relics were back in Jotunheim, along with another item of immense power, even if Jotunheim itself didn't realize the fact, or the possibilities.

Yes, once the little matter of this other 'Loki' had been handled satifactorily, he'd have to get the mortal back to his realm quickly, because once Thor and Odin worked out where he'd gone, the Aesir would be baying once more for Jotun blood, which Loki would ensure they did not get. At least without the Bifrost, they'd have difficulty getting an army here, and the rebuilding there would give Loki time to build here...

But Byleist's voice had changed, caught on the word "queen". Time to give full attention to the narrative of the court's fall again. "I... I had gone to fetch a servant to bring refreshments, then went to the antechamber to escort Loki to the Royal Presence. It was empty, and I began to wonder what had happened, so I returned through the hall to the Queen's chamber, but before I arrived, I could hear her. She was angry, saying he was no son of hers and she would never allow another to usurp the name of her son. I began to run, but by the time I was there, she was dead. I ran, then, to escape him, ran into the broken lands and took shelter here."


	6. Chapter 6

Loki listened with half an ear to the rest of the tale as the Jotnar left the pool. The pretender had blamed the murder on Byleist, of course, and had proceeded to consolidate his power, refusing to convene a Jotunmoot while the realm was in turmoil. In an elegant move that Loki would have appreciated had it not been a direct strike against his own identity, the usurper had claimed that Byleist had proven the sneakthief's identity by murdering the queen, out of hunger for the throne. Byleist had complained bitterly about this particular deception, noting indignantly that he was nowhere close to the succession. "Who would have taken the throne would have been for the moot to decide, of course, even in the case of a relative of the male line, which I am not!"

As he stood up from the pool, Loki reveled in the energy which coursed through his body. Food and absorbing the elemental cold of the pool had given him raw power. A sleep would consolidate the flow; give him the control he would need to create the portal large and stable enough to transport the small band into the palace at Utgard. He had memorized the charts and maps in the commander's office while there and wondered if he could get the party to a small cup in the mountains behind the Utgard fortification. The plan was not ideal. Time was short and they'd still have to get into the inner Keep. It would be risky, both from a military and a magical viewpoint. The time he had spent captive and starving would not be recovered in a matter of a few days. Nor was he truly familiar with Jotunheim. He had only been able to come to this spot because of the pathway he had left traces of so near the treasures of Asgard.

There was one other option, though he didn't like to think about it. It was an old magic, one he knew in principle, but had never actually attempted it himself. It had always seemed too… distasteful, far too intimate. He would have to find someone willing to open their mind and memories to Loki's touch, someone willing to be completely open. But the risk, of course, was that Loki himself would also be vulnerable, the swirling chaos he kept concealed behind his carefully controlled face would be open, the many raw wounds beneath uncovered. And of course, there was the risk that whatever Jotun volunteered would discover the truth behind their world's tragedies.

The thoughts rose up again as he contemplated that, threatening distraction from his purpose. Apparently, not only had he killed the father who had wanted him after all, but he had set the stage for his mother's murder when he opened the Bifrost. He wished there were time and space for grief - grief that he had ever believed the Aesir, grief for a life that had never been, grief for the choices he had made believing lies. These, he dismissed. Regret could accomplish nothing. Neither could blame, either for himself or others.

The duties of a prince were clear, even as the thought of where he had learned them sickened him. Duty stretched before him, unavoidable and urgent. He must avenge his mother's murder as well as the theft of his own name. He must render Jotunheim safe, and undertake reconstruction. His own revenge, sadly, must give way to these more urgent priorities. At some point, it would become a priority, but not yet. And besides... he grinned in the darkness, a feral baring of the teeth... Asgard needed this lesson, needed to know that Jotnar did not make safe pets. As soon as his throne was reasonably secure, the resistance de-fanged, and reconstruction begun, he would make sure of his realm's place among the nine. First though, he must make certain of his own throne. To do that, he would need allies, and as the thought occurred, he realized exactly how to get the allies he needed assembled and ready to go.

Inside, he smiled as he made a gesture to Helblindi, knowing that this would surely appeal to the grim Jotun, even if it came from Loki, whom he did not trust. The best part, of course, was that not only would it win over Helblindi, but perhaps even others, and would provide a tactical advantage during the coup, if he could get the word spread quickly enough.

* * *

Steve watched with misgivings the quiet thoughtfulness that Loki wrapped himself in during the long bathing and after. The story, of course, had been horrible, and the murder victim had been Loki's birth mother, but the captain sensed some deep thought operating under the surface of the cold calm. There was a plot there, something that was not being shared, and he didn't trust it. He was even less happy when, as they emerged from the pool, Loki had beckoned Helblindi aside, holding what seemed to be an urgent, private conversation.

The soldier wondered what could bring that brilliant gleam to the Jotun's red eyes, the sudden squaring of the shoulders. Had it been one of the Howling Commandos, Steve would have been sure it was a suggestion of the perfect attack, an opportunity to hit the enemy right where it hurt. But until now, Helblindi had clearly distrusted Loki. What in the world could he have said to bring that enthusiasm to the fore?

Soon after, the tall Jotun had nearly run from the cavern toward the upper reaches of the caves, toward the exit, perhaps? Steve watched him go, then flicked his eyes back to the object of his worries. He prepared to return to the sleeping chamber, even as he watched Loki, who turned his own gaze toward the soldier and sauntered forward, smirking.

"I assure you, whatever it is that you are currently suspecting and fretting over, there is no need. A short rest, a brief interlude to capture a… what was it you Midgardians call it? Ah, yes, to capture a war criminal, and then we will be nearly ready to return you home. I look forward to accompanying you there." The glint in the ruby eyes mocked, leaving the captain to wonder what, precisely, Loki was looking forward to doing on his next visit to Midg- Earth.

As he followed Loki down the corridor, he was overcome with a wave of longing for home and knew that however much he wanted to rest before the upcoming battle, he'd be just outside the sleeping chamber, practicing some of the moves he'd learned from the Jotnar.

* * *

Bruce reached a hand up, dragging his fingers yet again through the disordered waves. "Even with the various filters, I really don't feel like we're getting anything useful, here. I mean, okay, we've got a weakness where iron is concerned, and they don't seem to have gotten through the suit, but I didn't think your suits were really iron, anyway."

"They're not. Special alloy, though I do have steel in a few parts that I just can't do any other way. But I've been thinking, what if it's not iron so much as a kind of response to magnetism or something? I mean, the entire suit is wired, so the electrical current produces…"

"Hmmm. Could be. So that might explain why so far they seem to be sticking with the outdoors. Any bets on the party moving to Central Park?"

"Yeah, great. And no bets on the obvious. I can just imagine what it's going to be like with that filled up. From one kind of crazy alien who thinks he's a god, to another kind who think they're from Rivendell. All I want to know is why do they always have to pick Manhattan? I mean, Beijing's bigger, right? Or London, I mean, you know, Loki, with that accent of his, should have really gone for London."

Tony scowled at the many open windows – they'd looked in several different mythologies, searching for clues on the latest round of craziness, but there hadn't been much that looked useful. Mostly a bunch of stuff about turning clothes inside out, carrying iron, and musicians being kidnapped and kept. It didn't seem to be a particularly useful plan to hope they'd be so caught up with the music scene that they'd forget to invade.

Besides, he felt guilty. He hadn't said anything since landing, but his failure to at least get Clint and Natasha out still weighed on him. He'd tried to get a little closer to the two of them, but suddenly, he'd been looking down one of the explosive arrows Clint carried, and whatever struggle he'd thought he'd seen for just a second, he recognized when Clint's eye seemed to focus a little more intently that he was aiming for the shoulder joint attachment point. He suspected that somehow, Clint had thrown off the aim just a little bit, though, because he _knew_ that his evasive maneuver hadn't been quite as good as it should have been to escape the shot. He'd spent just a moment too long hesitating.

But he also couldn't count on Clint missing twice, so he'd headed for the lab to try to figure out what to do next. Now, he'd have to search to find the two assassins in the crowd, but hey, how inconspicuous could two ninja assassins make themselves, anyway? But before they even tried to find those needles in the haystack, they needed to figure out a way to even combat the lot out there. Was it sad that he found himself missing the "good old days" of Loki and the Chitauri?

* * *

Clint watched as he and Natasha carefully took off every bit of steel they'd had on themselves, and – along with every SHIELD agent present, had taken a moment to cut their own forearms to extract the embedded chip. It had hurt, of course, but nobody had so much as flinched from the knife Natasha had passed around, though it had been dropped as soon as the impromptu surgery had been completed. They'd gone down the construction tube attached to the roof, not wanting to go inside the building. Then they'd joined the crowd heading for Central Park.

The park had been crowded, and was growing more so. The Aelfar (Clint had no idea how they all knew the name. It seemed to come with the growing inner certainty, just as the "revelations" of the Tesseract.) seemed to be guiding them into different groups. He and Natasha had eventually left the rest of the SHEILD agents behind, walking ever North, heading for a large clearing with several Aelfar on a tall hill. Again, no one had told them directly where to go, the knowledge had simply infused itself into them.

And now, they knew, they would have the opportunity to offer themselves directly to the Queen, and the awareness settled itself into their beings with a warm pool of acceptance and joy. The inner Clint found, even as he loathed the heavy stifling blanket of feeling, that it offered concealment, because the other awareness, the one being forced on him, was so happy and content that it had stopped being quite so aware that not everything within Clint was entirely cooperative. The moment after he had thrown off the shot at Tony, he had found himself nearly squeezed out of his own body and mind, but had whispered to the other self that perhaps it had been a puff of wind…

* * *

Steve had practiced every traditional Jotun battle stance that Thrym had taught him, a few times over. He had then decorated the doorway in branching, complex frost patterns, having been assured by one of the Jotnar, Thjazi, that such patterns were seen as an art form and were considered an elegant gift to the house so decorated. When he had passed by the doorway, Thjazi had commented that Steve's style was exotic and interesting, and might even inspire a new fashion. And so, still unable to sleep, he'd expanded and elaborated his earlier beginning, decorating the doorway and the nearby walls.

Eventually, he paced back into the room, determined to find a way to sleep, knowing that with battle looming, he needed to rest. But it was the thought of who he was going into battle with that would not allow him to rest. Loki was curled up in one of the recesses, head cradled in the crook of his elbow. The glow of the caves showed the long planes of his face, the fan of dark lashes, the elegant curl of limbs, and Steve wondered how this had happened, how he found himself preparing to go into battle alongside someone he had been ready to kill just days ago.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the Chitauri descending from the vortex in the sky, could still see the dark stain of Coulson's blood on the wall of the helicarrier, could still hear Tony talking about a cello player from Portland, could feel the impossible power of that thin frame throwing him across the square in Stuttgart when he'd been protecting an old man from his bullying. But now, he also heard Byleist mourning a dead queen, talking of a stolen prince… "_You, my prince, were our hope for true independence from the carrion eaters of Asgard_." It had been easier, once, to know what side was right. With Loki, it was all swirled together now, the bad he'd done, the bad things that had been done to him. "_He's adopted._" None of which convinced him that Loki would be a good king.

As he laid down in his own recess, thoughts still chasing themselves around and around in his head, he glimpsed a hint of movement in the recess holding the curled-up lanky form a moment before the soft voice spoke. "I don't know, either. I did my best, once, to be king, when Thor was exiled. I tried to do exactly as I thought my - Odin would want." White teeth flashed for an instant in the shadows. "Perhaps that was my mistake. Well, of course, and being Thor's strange argr brother."

Most of the new words he'd learned, Steve had been able to tell from context. He still wasn't sure why he could understand everyone. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the magic that had changed his form, but whatever the reason, he could not understand the word Loki had just used. "Argr?"

The voice that answered was more than a little bitter. "Ah, the idea is that I am less than a true man because of my sorcery. Trickery and magic are tools used by women, since a true man is defined by his fighting ability. Never mind that I am able, even without magic, to use spear, knives, swords, and even, yes, a war hammer, if necessary. I spent hours every day training alongside Thor and the other warriors of the Royal Household. Just as Thor spent the hours we were to learn history, diplomacy, and all the courtly arts and graces alongside me with our tutors, much good may it do him. But then, he would go to spend more time with the warriors, while I would practice magic."

Steve was confused. He'd seen that magic in action. "Um, I'm not sure I really understand. We're talking about where you send energy bolts into people, and make copies of yourself, and just pull weapons out of thin air, right? So how is that _not_ a battle skill? Plus, you just said yourself that you practiced fighting with _Thor_. I mean, I just don't see how that adds up to unmanly." Whatever he'd pictured Loki's anger to be about, it certainly hadn't been some Asgardian version of the treatment he'd received for being small and asthmatic. "Did you ever think that maybe they just didn't like the use you put them to? I mean, you killed Phil Coulson, and all those people at the SHIELD facility, plus all those people in Manhattan."

* * *

An eerie, ghostly-light laugh shivered through the chamber. "The SHIELD facility, I take no credit for, aside from the few who foolishly attempted to stop me. Mortals had awakened the Tesseract. Sooner or later, the Chitauri would have opened a portal, causing the instability." In fact, Loki reflected, his own captivity had delayed the inevitable Chitauri invasion. Their plans had taken a new turn when they'd captured him from the void, power drained, exhausted and near death. He had listened to his captors as they talked outside his cell and convinced them that his skills as a warrior and leader who had been to Midgard could serve them. And now, of course, if the Chitauri attempted revenge on anyone, it would be himself. Currently armed with power they could not hope to match. But the mortal had laid another unmerited charge at his door.

"Did they truly tell you I had killed the mortal in my prison chamber?" Humor tinged the silken voice, along with curiosity. "It should have taken over an hour for him to die if no measure was taken to staunch the blood. Of course, I would prefer that you be occupied with the wounded rather than with hindering my movements. He, like much of Asgard, chose to believe that bit of strategy reflected a lack of conviction." It was ridiculous, as though Loki had not carefully calibrated the wound to cause the maximum of distraction while incapacitating an enemy. Wounded comrades were much more distracting than corpses. He rose from the shadowed recess, as though to gain a bit of distance from the accusation of clumsiness.

He refused, naturally, to defend himself on the subject of the Chitauri invasion. To allow a mortal to know that he had been so basely used, so _violated_… intolerable. They had sifted through his unwilling mind and body, forced him to create a psychic bond using his own stolen magic, and still he had survived, still he had refused to allow them the satisfaction of seeing his fear. Would he then confess it freely to some pathetic Midgardian for no reason whatsoever? Not this side of death.

"Rest, Warrior. We have a coup d'état to accomplish soon. If it comforts you, I have already decided that you must act with your nature, rather than against it. You will have a special mission." With that, he summoned the thinnest strand of magic, briefly walking over to lay the simple sleep charm on the captain.

* * *

Musicians of every type, every instrument, every genre were adding to the cacophony around the hill. Here, a tall man dressed in black played Celtic folk on bagpipes, while next to him, a woman with purple hair played a punk anthem on electric violin, and a kid in a torn t-shirt improvised skillfully on a series of plastic pickle buckets and hammered out scrap metal. Interspersed among them were several artists, caricaturists, graffiti painters, a woman dancing to a beat she seemed to hear inside her head… the scene was vibrant and alive as the two assassins made their way up the hill, finally spotting the small line gathered before a throne.

Finally cresting the hill, they looked over to see their Queen, seated in state on what looked to be a throne hastily pulled from the props room of some theater, draped with scarves of every color and material, and cushioned with pillows of every description. But what drew Clint's eye was the flashing blue gem in the swirling scepter she carried. No hint even of a blade in this form, it looked more like the swirling, upraised branches of a tree painted by Van Gogh, but he would know the gem if it suddenly turned orange. He could taste the damn thing in his nightmares.

_I knew it. I just knew it had to be that fucking thing! _ But before he could begin to form another thought, she was looking straight at the two of them and smiling. "Ah, my warriors have arrived." She spread her hands, with an airy gesture. "Please, make yourselves at home in my court."

* * *

The small sleep he himself had taken before awakening to the scrutiny of Captain Rogers had not been nearly enough, nor, he suspected would a sleep of many days, something he could not yet afford. So, distasteful or not, he needed a Jotun with knowledge of the inner Keep. He needed Byleist. Softly padding out of the chamber, he stilled himself, calling to mind the younger Jotun, the feeling of his energy, then softly walked down the corridor, gently reaching out and calling with another thin thread of magic, a trick he'd often used as a child to wake Thor for midnight adventures.

A moment later, and Byleist stepped out of his sleeping chamber, eyes wide. "Prince Loki, it _was_ you!"

"Indeed. Please, I have… need of your knowledge." Here was the difficult part. No warrior on Asgard would submit to the favor he needed. It would likely render them as argr as a sorcerer. So, carefully it was, then. "I have never been to Utgard. From your story, it would seem you lived there for a time, became familiar with it, yes?"

The smile he received in turn should have lit the corridor, along with the nearly tangible wave of pride in being able to help, and joy in having gained his Prince's attention. Loki nearly stepped back from the happy affection that seemed to pour from his cousin. The dangerous happiness reminded him too strongly of other times, other places, when he himself had been exactly that kind of puppy, grateful for whatever scraps of affection his family had cared to let fall. "Yes, I lived for a time there with my mother before we came to Thruthheim, and then also after the Swallowing with my Royal Aunt, while we worked to help our people recover."

Smiling his most winning smile, Loki asked the question that had burned in him since deciding that this was the only way forward. "Who else here has familiarity with the Utgard Keep?" Oh, please, please, by the Nine, for Yggdrasil's sake, let someone else, _anyone_ else be able to do this. Of all the Jotnar, let it not be this delighted _child_ who would have such an intimate glimpse at his mind.

"Oh, well, Thrym was there many years ago, and briefly commanded the guards there before the False Loki came. He knows the outer fortifications, but not the inner Keep. Thjazi was a guard there, also. He knows the outer fortifications as well, and the lower dungeons, but I think I'm the only one familiar with the inner Keep." Again, the sheer pride in being able to help was like a slow poison, invading Loki's skin, depriving him of any hope of peace. "We… we did not have many of our own people with us in our travel from Thruthheim, hoping that it would disguise our intent and our Royal Mistress the better if we did not bring a large entourage. Only Thrym and Thjazi came with me when I fled."

Suppressing a sigh, Loki beckoned. "Come, walk with me to the large cavern. I wish to work a great magic when the others awake, but first, I need to know the Keep itself. You alone possess this knowledge. Would you willingly share it with me, mind to mind?" He scrutinized Byleist's face hungrily. The only use he could have for the child's naiveté was that perhaps he would agree where a more experienced warrior would shy instinctively from such sorcery. Though the Jotnar have surprised him with their acceptance of his "undersized" self, and even seem not to object to his sorcery as an inborn trait, surely even they will object to such a depraved violation of personal modesty.

To his surprise, Byleist showed no hesitation at all, even seeming eager not only to help, but to be touched by magic. Loki held up a hand in one of his characteristic gestures, frowning lightly. "While this is flattering, I must warn you that this will not be an easy thing. As I look into your memories, you will be seeing mine, which are not always pleasant." Byleist's eyes widened with unwelcome pity, causing Loki to curl his hands into fists, the claws digging into the flesh of his palms. Truly, if he did not need this so much, the Jotun would already have been sent flying into a wall.

He smirked just a little as he continued. "Also, I do not know if you have ever... mated, but this is said to be even more intimate. It is beyond the awkwardness of a first bedding, according to every account I have seen." He paused to let these revelations sink in, but his cousin's enthusiasm didn't dim.

At the final sentence, Byleist laughed. "Are the Aesir truly so shy about reproduction? How then are there more of them than of us? Of course I am no virgin. I am of age. I do not yet have a bondmate, nor have my couplings resulted in children, but I hope someday." Which left Loki to file away yet another cultural difference between Asgard and Jotunheim, one he would have to explore more fully if he were to secure the throne.

"I will also warn you that once this has started, I will not be able to stop early without causing even more pain. I tell you this because I do not want to spend energy fighting you once we start." As Loki watched, Byleist finally seemed to understand the gravity of his warnings, swallowing, then leaning forward.

"I am ready to help you, Cousin. What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Byleist smiled to himself. For all the warnings, this was really not so bad. All he'd been told to do was lie down, relax, and picture a favorite place within the Keep. It had been the obvious choice to think of Queen Farbauti's blue court - carved from a single piece of blue ice. Then he'd felt the odd sensation of his cousin's hand in his and...

Falling

Oh, Ymir, how far can one fall? Cold, even as Jotnar measure these thing ripped at him, within and without. The knowledge: I am a monster. They are dead because I am a monster. _I am the monster parents tell their children about at night._ Truly, _you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the Throne of Asgard_, not even to defend it, so I let go.

_No, Loki._ And still falling, choking, gasping. Truly, the body should be ripping itself apart here in the Void between the Worlds. Perhaps it already has. Perhaps I am already dead and this is the afterlife, eternal falling through the void.

Pain, screaming without mouth, without breath. The eyes cannot penetrate the infinite darkness, so they invent flashes of brilliant color, dazzling in their falsity. The ears, too, become creative in utter silence, scraps of music, voices, the whispered refrain, _argr_. The mind insists on presenting Thor: _Some do battle. Others just do tricks. You are incapable of sincerity. Know your place, Brother. You're a talented liar, Loki, always have been._. Frigga: _There is always a purpose to everything your father does. _Odin:_ No, Loki._ and even _You are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed... Abandoned, suffering, left to die, Laufey's son._

New sensations join the explosive feelings as dessication sets in, eyes sinking, flesh contracting, the body itself knowing only pain, fire and ice tracing every nerve.

Byleist felt trapped in clinging despair, Loki's misery infecting every cell as he/they fell endlessly through the empty dark, seared both by the beyond-frozen nothingness and the scorching rays of distant radiation. The thought of mother brought not Nal, but a shining Aesir woman, weaving in a garden of unbearable light. Desperately, he fought to find something to cling to in this whirling joyless abomination, knowing he could not fight off the sensation for fear of the spell's backlash for them both, fearing suddenly what would come at the end of this terrifying isolation.

_Laufey's son. _Laufey. Oh, by Ymir… Byleist reached for the thought of Laufey, but just as the thought 'mother' had brought Loki's adoptive mother, not his own. Laufey summoned not the indulgent uncle who had tried to protect his people, but a monster. _You've come a long way to die, Asgardians… We are beyond diplomacy now… he'll get what he came for: war and death… Kill him._ _…your death came at the hand of Laufey. _And then… oh, no, no, no, no… not - not Loki, no….

Just as Byleist was ready to fight the control of the spell, backlash or no, he began to feel the hard stone under his back as the magic retreated. He curled up, pressing his eyes to his knees, shuddering. "You killed him. I know why, but you killed him, Son of Odin. Are you going to kill me?"

* * *

Loki froze. Ah, of course. "Should I? I can suspect what else you may have seen just now. It all happened. I killed Laufey believing myself to be protecting Asgard. I now have no idea why that seemed like a good, or even reasonable idea at the time, other than the fact that I was utterly alone and had been raised to see Jotnar as monsters. It is not as though Asgard has particularly welcomed its Jotun foundling, you know."

"I… I know. I fell with you, heard a word I do not know… argr? It tasted… ugly. I heard other things, too. I saw Laufey as you saw him, heard him order your death through your ears. I felt your pain, your sorrow, your rage. I was afraid to see what came at the end of the fall, so I asked for Laufey – he was like a father to me, and, and I saw him through your eyes, a monster who sought only your death." The Jotun still pressed kept his head upon his knees, arms around his legs. The shivers that wracked his body continued, as Loki reached a hand forward, laid it open-palmed upon the back.

"But, but I knew a different Laufey. I cannot do that again, not today, or I would ask you to find my Laufey in my head so that you might know him. I… I am afraid of you, but you did… _that_ to protect Asgard. Why?"

Loki took a deep breath. He wanted desperately to simply silence Byleist, kill him or send him so far away he'd never be seen again, but the spell had left him with the shadows of what Byleist had seen behind his eyes, and had shown him not Laufey, but Farbauti. He owed the child an answer for his broken innocence. "I was king for a short time. War was on our doorstep. Even if the Aesir had not always treated me well, I had a duty to guard them, to protect them from any other realm that might attack. That is part of the job of a king."

Byleist swallowed heavily, looking up at Loki, seated beside him. "Will you be as ruthless for us? Or will you be so ruthless at us? Why should we replace the False Loki with you if you will be another such?"

"I could promise you, sweetly as apples, that I will do anything, be anything." The accompanying smile was equal parts smug and rueful. "And you might even believe me, because I really am good at that kind of thing. But I also know you've heard the chorus of voices that name me liar, trickster, insincere, unworthy, for I heard them the entire time I fell." And, he thought viciously, I _earned_ those names. I learned at the feet of the best liar in the nine realms, and I will use it to shove this in his face.

"But I will tell you this, no swearing to its truth, no pretty promises: I will do my best to protect Jotunheim from any other force that seeks to dominate it. I will seek to make it a better place than it is now." Loki winced internally at the bruised innocent before him who wanted to believe so badly that he was even now working to trust the killer beside him. "But there's this: the Midgardian warrior has been my enemy. He fights beside me in this."

With that, he rose on his long legs, and walked back to his sleeping chambers, closing his eyes and readying himself to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Byleist did not sleep. How could he? He feared if he closed his eyes that he would be falling again; or possibly trapped, helpless, within the body that killed Laufey. He thought of Loki's reaction when Helblindi had called him Odinson. As Byleist had done, emerging from the grip of the spell. But Loki had said nothing. He had barely defended himself, saying only that he had done what he felt he must to defend his kingdom. He had said the Midgardian warrior had been his enemy, but now chose to ally with him. Why?

And in a few short hours, he would have to make a decision. If he stood before the rest and accused Loki of killing Laufey, what then? More of Utgard Loki, but without even the hope of relief from Prince Loki. Yet if he did not, how would Byleist live with himself if this one turned into a worse tyrant still? Turning to the practice ring, he felt himself forming ice, moving swiftly and fiercely as though there were others beside him, fighting the battle that raged inside himself. He felt as though he had caught a bit of Loki's anger and inner fire, as though it were an illness.

Finally, he decided that he would participate in the coup, watching Loki. If he were to betray Jotunheim, Byleist would avenge Laufey and the realm. After all, had he not felt the moment of Laufey's murder, been made unclean by it? Perhaps, then, he would be able to do what was necessary if the time came.

* * *

Bruce's eyes were carefully neutral as he put down the component he'd been testing. Luckily, Tony often went days in the lab without leaving, so Pepper had put in a small kitchen to the side, stocked with foods with long shelf lives, and he'd put some of his favorite herbal teas in as well for when he wanted to take a break to think. Now was definitely one of those times.

How could Tony stand this? He felt caged in the lab, unable to leave lest somehow the aliens outside triggered the Other Guy and got the meanest, greenest weapon going under their mind control. So far, there didn't seem to be any casualties on the two occasions Iron Man had flown over Manhattan, confirming that Central Park was now Elfland Grand Central.

He was out right now, leaving Bruce to his frustration at being confined and at the absence of the engineer. After all, he was a scientist. All this application stuff was supposed to be for guys like Tony. He knew that, but insisted on checking on the situation anyway. And Bruce knew he was communicating with Fury, something else that made him intensely nervous.

Digging through the cabinet, he hoped Pepper had left some ginger snaps. He wanted something sweet with his rooibos.

There hadn't been gingersnaps, but there had been some kind of almond cookie, each individually wrapped in a tasteful wax paper wrapper, printed in French. The two he ate were delicious, but his exhaustion was beginning to tell. It was time to get some rest, or risk the Other Guy paying a visit. So, after cleaning up his snack, he headed to the safety corner, with the eye-wash, first aid kit, and most importantly – a fold-down cot. Appropriating this and the shock blanket, he laid down to take a nap.

* * *

The warriors gathered in the large chamber, Steve among them, having awoken from sleep refreshed and energetic. Loki ran his eyes across the group, smiling a quiet secretive smile as he saw Byleist join the other Jotnar. "Ah, then we are gathered and ready. Excellent. Captain Rogers, I would like you, along with Byleist and Thjazi, to free any and all prisoners the usurper may have taken." He opened his mouth to continue, but Byleist interrupted.

"Cousin! Prince Loki, may I not fight beside you?" Loki nearly laughed at the look in the Jotun's eyes, the barely concealed determination. Really, the child was utterly transparent. It was obvious that once he had a court to preside over, he would need someone a little more complex to serve as advisor for him.

"I think not, and for the very reason that you _are_ my cousin. Should anything… untoward happen to me this day, I would not have you accused of the crime, as you were with my mother." The corners of his mouth turned down even as his eyes lit with unconcealed glee. "Besides, you are now, to my knowledge, the closest relative I have, and whether you believe it so or not, I would think you close to the throne."

Having dismissed his cousin, he continued. "Thrym, I would like you to pick an appropriate force of let us say four warriors to go with me to capture the impostor. I want him alive. In the meantime, you will lead the rest through the fortification from the inside to take the gates." No need to mention Helblindi's mission. With luck, he would succeed in time. Everything now counted on the timing. He took a moment to breathe deeply, hoping he'd sent Helblindi early enough and stayed his own attack late enough. Remembering the first time he'd been to Jotunheim was warning enough that one such mistake was sufficient for a lifetime.

Thrym had simply nodded and tapped four warriors, with a jerk of his head toward Loki, then formed up the rest around him.

He now raised his voice over all the Jotnar, intending it to carry. "I know many of you must be wondering why I am giving orders here where I was not raised, nor do you know me. I hope in time to come you will know me better, but for now, know this: I come from a realm which has more than it needs, yet here, I see privation, want, and oppression. This should not be, and will not be. I pledge myself here to serve you, to uphold the traditions and the rights of the Jotnar and of Jotunheim as best I may."

"To that end, I ask you to remember that most Jotnar of Utgard are there either by compulsion or having been deluded by the impostor. I want to keep damage to a minimum, since I am confident that we, all of us here, can triumph, and when we do, we will lift Jotunheim to its proper place among the realms. But we can only do so if we keep ourselves and our world strong." The look on Byleist's face told him he'd made a step in the right direction to keep his followers. Now, to the difficult part.

Keeping the memories he'd gotten from Byleist at the front of his mind, he reached for his magic, then reached through the dimensions to grasp the Tesseract. Grounding himself, he reached to his own core and _pulled_, directing the flow through the Tesseract, and entwining the picture of a courtyard with smooth, deep aquamarine walls and floor, the knowledge of its location, its essence. He _twisted_ and shaped the entryway from the cavern, then beckoned all with him to follow.

* * *

Steve found his second time travelling by Tesseract much more pleasant, and wondered for a second whether it was the shorter distance or the fact that Loki had more energy and control this time. Then he caught sight of Byleist, still slightly disoriented from the portal, shook his own head and clasped the Jotun's arm. The two of them retrieved Thjazi, and moved to follow Thrym from the courtyard, as around them the others similarly shook themselves and assembled.

The inner gates went more easily than Steve had expected from his own experience invading fortresses. Then again, he reflected ruefully, he'd always been on the outside, trying to get in, rather than the inside trying to get out. Little as he minded the situation this time, the captain made a mental note to remind himself to have Tony sit down for some security updates when he returned to Earth. The thought of what Loki might do, should he choose to materialize in the middle of Stark tower was frankly horrifying.

A few of the guards took a look at the small force, grinned savagely, and asked to join. Others had been locked into the small holding cells at each gate. Thrym had taken those few and assigned them to other Jotnar, to guard against the possibility of a second change of heart, but had largely accepted those who volunteered.

At the fourth gate, Thjazi had pulled Captain Rogers and Byleist aside, saying they needed to head for the entry to the prison now. Byleist chose one among the former guards to accompany them, and the four set forth along an open by way, eventually turning to a tunnel in the ice, which led a short way in before becoming a twisting stone passage. Before long, Thjazi warned the others in a hushed voice that they were approaching the guard post.

Steve put a hand up and retreated to the most recent bend in the passage. Turning to the volunteer, he asked, "What is your name, then, friend?"

"Idi Ulfrson. I wanted to train under Thrym Mimirson before he left." At that, both Byleist and Thjazi gave him smiles, seeming to welcome him to some brotherhood.

"Well, then, Idi, I have a plan. We're going to send you ahead, shouting a warning, to draw out all the guards. The others and I will be right behind you with a special attack." Catching the eyes of the other two, he mimed pitching a snowball. Byleist grinned and nodded. Thjazi's eyes sparkled, even as his hand dropped to begin forming a ball. "Just remember, capture if we can, rather than kill."

* * *

Loki moved using Byleist's memories from the courtyard to the Royal chambers. The impostor had staged a coup and might have done a bit of redecorating, but in his experience, palace rooms were rarely repurposed significantly. The reason for every room was reflected in its proportions and placement. To attempt to significantly change those arrangements would be difficult at best, and most probably futile.

Loki had chosen to come before dawn so that he could have a reasonable idea where everyone would be. Were he still in the palace at Asgard, he would have been awake and likely headed for either the library or the stables, confident that he would only encounter servants. Most of the court did not like to awaken before dawn, though Odin often would, to go sit in his throne room, casting his eye across the realms. No, if he were right about the arrival of the messenger with his collar, the impostor would be in his private rooms, possibly with his closest guards.

So, from the blue courtyard, through the turns of the passage to the entry that Byleist had used when he sought the queen. From the passageway, Loki smiled, hearing the murmur of voices. Beckoning the Jotnar accompanying him closer, he whispered, "Keep the impostor alive. Kill any other, if need be, though not without need. I will not touch the impostor unless all of you are dead, so hold him well."

With that, he strode forward, summoning magic to his fingertips, prepared to stun any who got in his way. As a backup, he knew he had several good throwing knives concealed in the folds of his Asgardian armor.

The scene that met his eyes could not have been bettered. The usurper sat on a stone chair, surrounded by over a dozen lackeys and guards. With his small band, Loki knew he couldn't possibly be accused of having used excessive force. Suddenly, from behind him, there came a volley of white flying through the air, and he laughed as he advanced, for this time, for once, others were hanging back and striking from the shadows. He was one of a group.

Whatever this attack was, it seemed to startle and confuse the group in the room. Several lackeys had white smeared across their eyes, blinding them. Others fled toward the furniture, seeking shelter. He threw spell strands at their feet, tangling and tripping everyone in a confusion of limbs. The remaining members of the retinue turned to fight, but were hampered by the struggling bodies at their feet, the flailing arms. Everything was loud and confused, and Loki was delighted. This was better than Stuttgart. His mind was free and he had planned this for his own ends.

With all the confusion, he turned to his own Jotnar, a triumphant smile gently curving his lips like the edge of a blade, signaling them forward to take control of the field.

* * *

The guards had been easily overcome by the surprise attack, and currently sat in the first cell they had come to. Thjazi and Idi had gone to make sure there were no more anywhere in the sprawling maze of tunnels and caged recesses. Byleist and Steve had taken the keys to the cells, releasing those able to take advantage of an unlocked door. Steve led a group of Jotnar to the entryway, encouraging them to go to the gateposts and raid the supplies meant for the guards.

But he'd seen too much within the cells to rest easily now. The trapped Jotnar had been starved. Bones showed clearly under stretched, dry skin. Eyes were flat and dull, and many of the Jotnar hadn't even reacted as the cell doors opened.

As Steve turned back to the prison, an unwelcome thought whispered through his mind: he had allowed this, or something like it, to happen to Loki. Whatever other punishment Asgard had intended, and Loki had spoken clearly of avoiding torture, when Loki had arrived at the base, he'd obviously been starving, the bones of his face clearly outlined, and the heavy leather armor hanging loosely on his already thin frame. Looking back, he couldn't remember whether they'd fed the captive before sending him to Asgard, but it was clear he hadn't been fed since.

A part of him argued he hadn't _known_, but his conscience returned – he hadn't _asked_. He'd simply assumed that Thor wouldn't do something like that, or allow it to be done. But he hadn't really known anything of Asgardian culture, other than the bits Thor had let slip. The thought tore into him and twisted like a knife in the gut. As he pulled a barrel of shrimp from a recess in the wall, a wave of self-loathing washed over him.

* * *

The mass of fallen and injured Jotnar proved little barrier to the two warriors under Loki's command. But as they reached forward to grasp the usurper's wrists, a pale blue blast of magic erupted from him, injuring not only those reaching to capture him, but also the fallen Jotnar surrounding him.

Ah, Loki recognized the strength of the magic, even as he deplored the clumsy harshness that betrayed a lack of finesse Loki would never have allowed in himself. He felt the cold thrill of battle wash down his spine, muscles tensing to the challenge, magic pooling, electric, at his core, tingling under his skin. The familiar high beat with his pulse, even as he fought for control. The hard-won discipline slipped into place, allowing him to shape the fire within to his will.

Focusing on his target, he wove the bright strands carefully into a binding spell, clearly visualizing a net stretching before him. He remembered when this spell had been used on him as a child, throwing a tantrum with wild magic, until his Vanir tutor had woven the net to contain him, forcing his magic back on him. This time, however, the ice blue magic of his opponent invaded the carefully twined strands of the spell, and shredded them.

The other Loki stood, feet braced, teeth bared in a grimace, as energy pulsed at his fingertips, lips beginning to mutter a spell.

Loki could feel the unshielded malevolent intent cascading from the other magic-wielder, and grounded himself, pushing energy mixed with a little of his own essence out from himself, creating doubles that moved around distractingly, as he prepared his next attack. One quick jerk of a wrist pulled the comfortable weight of a throwing knife into his hand and he sent it true to the mark, even as the other hand sent a quick pulse of magic to push the other sorcerer against the wall.

Just as the usurper crumpled, there was a sound of feet running through the hall. "Your Majesty, Utgard has fallen! Flee!"

Loki pivoted smoothly on the balls of his feet, the motion an elegant ballet, as he turned to greet the new arrival with a spell strand that neatly wrapped from ankles to knees, forcing the Jotun to stumble forward. "Indeed." Loki was aglow with triumph. "You may now kneel before your prince."

* * *

Steve showed Byleist a fireman's carry and the two began to carry the prisoners to the courtyard above the gate. Soon, Idi and Thjazi joined them, identical looks of disgust on their faces. "Corpse-eating sons of Aesir! There is a lake down there, teeming with shrimp. The walls of the lower levels are practically coated with food, and they starved Jotnar for more than a year. Look about you!" Thjazi practically spat his anger over the mistreatment. Idi looked ill, as though he were struggling to keep his gorge down.

Some of the prisoners had wept and hidden their faces. Others stared, unseeing, into the air. One, Steve was certain, he'd never forget. The Jotun had curled up like a small child in his arms, making no sound, but shivering restlessly, his head tucked into Steve's neck.

Standing after he had gently laid this soul in the most comfortable spot he could find, Steve desperately wanted to pray, for forgiveness of his own hard-heartedness, for healing to the poor souls he carried to the courtyard, for merciful care to them all, but the words choked in his heart, weighing like stones in a river of tears. He felt inadequate to the raw need before him.

Just then, Byleist hesitantly interrupted his thoughts. "Is it true you were once Prince Loki's enemy?" His ruby eyes were intent, searching the soldier's face as they headed once more into the tunnels.

Dazed by the sudden change in direction, Steve merely bit out a terse "yes." Seeing the flash of hurt in the other's eyes, he relented for a moment, tried to find the words needed. "He came to Midgard as a conqueror, with an army. I was among the… warriors who stopped him. There was also someone from Asgard who helped defend my world. When Loki had been defeated, he convinced us to send both Loki and a powerful artifact to Asgard. I've begun to wonder if I did the right thing when I agreed to Loki being sent there. Perhaps if I'd argued, insisted he be kept on Earth…"

Byleist's eyes filled with pity. "No. Asgard does not listen to other worlds. You would merely have exchanged one invasion for another. They claim we started a war by invading Midgard, but even at its coldest, Midgard is too warm for us, and too bright by all accounts. Rather, Odin Deceiver coveted the Casket of Ancient Winters and decided to take it with the armies of Asgard. Vanaheim was conquered because Asgard wished for slaves. Aelfheim has not been taken only because their queen is clever and heartless. Who was this Aesir who came adventuring on your world?"

"Thor. He, well, he's started to visit us, and when Loki showed up to take the Tesseract, Thor came." If anything, the pity in Byleist's eyes grew deeper.

"Ah. The Odinson. If he came to your realm, it was for his purposes, not yours. This Tesseract must be a thing Odin Gallows Lord greatly desires." The calm knowing in the Jotun's voice irritated Steve. Thor was a comrade in arms, straightforward, trusting and trustworthy. Yet Loki had been starving for a long time, and had mentioned _an eternity of torture_. He'd said Thor knew of the sentence. Loki had no compunctions about lying, but also had no need to lie if the truth would serve his purposes. _Damn_. Why did the captain suspect that this, of all times, Loki was using the truth as his sword?

* * *

Clint was outwardly impassive, even as inside his soul, he was caught in turmoil. He felt weaker and weaker, cut off from his own body, unable to shape his own actions. When the Queen reached for him, running a hand along his arm, he wanted to shiver in revulsion, but instead, his body allowed the touch, even leaning into it. He wished he could instead have the sudden complete violence that Natasha had once offered. He wished that this time, she would again hit him so hard that everything else would be driven from his mind.

But she stood, as impassive as he, watching the queen's hand on his arm.

* * *

The page who had carried the message of the fortification's fall had indeed knelt, looking confused. He had then been put to helping the Jotnar who had attended Loki.

Loki calmly finished a rather less rough and ready binding spell on the usurper, leaving his two remaining Jotnar to care for their fallen comrades and to sort out the many followers and servants that had been in the room when they had attacked. The Jotun attending the two fallen warriors raised his voice. "My prince, Beli is dying."

Loki whirled to see the injured Jotun collapsed on the ground, a thin trickle of blood falling from his mouth, almost certainly the result of internal injuries. Crossing swiftly, he knelt down, placing a palm on the Jotun's bare chest, blocking out the room, the sounds of the injured, everything but awareness of the thin trickle of exploratory magic. The internal injuries were severe, organs crushed and mangled in the aftermath of the magical blast. A mortal would already have been dead. Even an Aesir warrior would be unlikely to survive such injuries. But Jotnar were strong. Loki held fast to that knowledge as he _pushed_ more energy into the fallen warrior, shaping it to the needs of the failing body, sealing breaches in the tissues, reshaping that which had been pulled out of alignment, containing the blood and pushing it back into its accustomed courses. He was so absorbed that for a moment, he didn't even hear the deep breath, feel the returning pulse.

But again, he had pushed his own fragile recovery to the limit. The grey was returning to the edges of his vision, the dizziness threatening to overwhelm him. "Your Highness!" Again, the Jotun who had alerted him to Beli's condition, Vasad, spoke as a pair of heavy, comforting hands settled on his shoulders. "Do not tax yourself further. He will live." The hands helped him up, guided him to the comfortable seat so recently occupied by the impostor.

Vasad had then gone to help Beli to another seat, then assisted the other two Jotnar in finding an appropriate chamber in which to keep the lackeys who had surrounded the impostor. The usurper himself was left on the floor of the chamber in which he'd been captured, tightly bound by Loki's spell. The page was then told to find food for Beli and for Loki.

Loki waited calmly, eating from a bowl of fruit, obviously imported, that the page had fetched from a corner of the room, sending some to Beli. And he was rewarded as he had known he must be. One of Thrym's Jotnar approached. "Your Highness, Helblindi Egdirson sends his greetings and summons you to Jotunmoot." More Jotnar spilled into the room, two taking custody of the bound body on the floor.

Loki smiled briefly, then moved to the center of the honour guard that had formed, gesturing to Vasad to follow. "May I request that you also send to the prisons for my cousin, Byleist Naljarson, and my companion, Steve Rogers of Midgard?"

* * *

Tony looked down at the sleeping physicist on the cot. At least one of them would get some sleep. The field effect for the suit simply refused to grow to more than about six inches beyond the physical edge of the armor, no matter what he'd done. Trying to use the steel frame of his building was impractical from an energy standpoint, and basically pointless when he thought about it, anyway, since the building couldn't conveniently be moved to the middle of Central Park, even without worrying about what the city would have to say about the issue afterwards.

Oh, to Hell with it. Neither of them was making any progress. Maybe Bruce had the right idea after all. Moving to a clear lab table, Tony curled up, using his arm as a pillow. "JARVIS, note to self: install a second bunk in here, and a stash of pillows and blankets. Also, security code ultraviolet, and lights to twenty percent." It wasn't long before the engineer was asleep.

* * *

Loki had been led to a large plain, with a swift river on one side and a large crater on the other. Scattered over the plain were small ice shelters, obviously rapidly constructed from the surface of the plain itself.

His guard turned toward the crater, along a neglected road with fissures in the ice. At the mouth of the crater, Helblindi waited. He greeted Loki, then spoke for a moment with the Jotun who had announced the summons, then sent him, along with the guard, back to bring Byleist Naljarson and Steve Rogers of Midgard to the gathering point. The two Jotnar who bore the bound prisoner stayed, along with Vasad.

Turning again to Loki, Helblindi beckoned. "I am the youngest of the lawspeakers for this moot. It is therefore my duty to greet those summoned to the moot, and to lead you to the place of witness. Please follow me. The moot has agreed to take up the matter of your identity, whether you be Laufeyson or merely Outlander."

Squaring his shoulders, Loki sent an inquiring look at Helblindi. "Must my identity be considered alone, or might both our identities…" His head nodded to the side to indicate the bound prisoner. "… be considered together?" He gave an odd smile, ironic and charming. "We are, after all, each claiming to be the same person. I believe I can prove myself to be Laufey's true son and no imposter either way, but it might be simpler to decide if you have all options before you."

Helblindi narrowed his eyes as he considered the prince. "Why is it that I find myself thinking you've planned everything of this to the last degree, despite my doubts that Asgard knows anything of Jotun law?"

An elegant gesture, accompanied by a subtle grin. "Perhaps because you would have tried to do so were you in my position? We may never know. But now is not the time to speculate. Do your duty."

As they descended into the bowl of the crater, Loki could see hundreds of Jotnar seated, looking to the center, where bare rock was visible, black against the perpetual twilight greys and blues of the ice and snow. He took his position on the bare rock, waiting for the procedure of a Jotunmoot to reveal itself.

Finally, a tall Jotun stood. "Loki of Asgard…" Loki suppressed a grimace. "How is it you claim descent of Royal Jotunheim, despite being raised in the Aesir court?"

Loki began his explanation, making clear his anger and betrayal at the hands of the Aesir, the unexplained second class status that had dogged him his entire life, even as he had believed himself to be a true son of Asgard. The story unfolded in a patchwork of truths, half truths, and omissions. He ended with a delicate shrug, placing his fate in the hands of the moot.

Discussions began, back and forth, among the Jotnar. A few posed questions, but the issue still hung in the balance. One asked whether this might not be some Aesir plot to undermine what independence Jotunheim had left, perhaps to kill any Jotnar leaders that remained.

Loki asked permission to answer this last question, then requested all to step back from him. "Had I wished any dead, they would have been." Then, reaching deep, he pulled magic from the core of his being, allowed it to seep through his pores, then went alight. All he could hear was the hiss and crackle of flame. All he could see was the blue-white stabbing light. Vaguely, from a distance, he could feel the stone beneath his feet softening, melting in the blazing flame he'd become. Then, he felt the world spin, and he collapsed, knowing no more.

* * *

Helblindi looked down at the unconscious magic user, whose flame had quenched as he lost consciousness. Summoning a guard, he had Loki carried to a nearby shelter to recover. Fetching Vasad, he obtained an account of the raid and the capture of the Loki of Utgard. The moot seemed favorably disposed at hearing the account of Loki of Asgard's heroism in saving the life of Beli.

* * *

Byleist answered the call of the moot rapidly, leaving the others to conscript residents of the fortress into aiding the former prisoners.

His testimony told of the rejection of the Loki of Utgard by Queen Farbauti. Further, he described the actions of Loki of Asgard when in the train of Thor the Killer. He described in detail his observation of Loki's transformation. He also described Loki's interactions with the group living in the remains of Thruthheim's caverns. The time he spent inside Loki's mind, he did not touch on, feeling it too far removed from true experience to be witness before a moot.

* * *

Later, Loki felt himself stirring to life again. As he opened his eyes, he saw Helblindi above him. "Good. You're awake. The moot is favorably disposed to you, despite your stunt with fire. There is really only one point to clear up, and I will tell it to you as we head for the gathering. Byleist has said that he thought perhaps the brass necklet with the markings of Royal Jotunheim and the runes for your name was yours, bartered for food, but since it was found in the possession of Loki of Utgard, you will need to prove your connection to it."

Stirring, his voice harsh even in his own ears, rough with the need for more rest, Loki asked if the usurper had managed to do anything with the necklet and received a negative response. Struggling up, Loki walked once again into the crater, and saw the other Loki sitting free of his bindings, but clearly still in custody, manacles confining his limbs. Loki reached a hand toward the necklet sitting upon his chest, and immediately, it flew to his hand, the runes and markings glowing as it settled once more into the accustomed place.

A ripple moved through the moot, and Loki knew he had prevailed.


	8. Chapter 8

The next several hours had been amazingly dull. Loki had returned to the ice shelter he had occupied while unconscious, where he found Captain Rogers waiting. "I'm not allowed in, because I'm not Jotun." Even the warrior seemed to realize that the time for battle was over, and did not engage in his solitary sparring exercises for once. "I wish I had a book. Almost anything would do."

Loki stared, wondering for a weak moment whether he'd simply imagined the soldier speaking the words he'd kept closed in his own mouth. Recovering himself, he arched an eyebrow. "You wish for a book? Thor tends not to have companions who gladly read. He would tell you there are servants for a reason." The dark glitter of his eyes reflected centuries of bitterness. _Know your place, Brother_.

But, of course, this mortal was different from Thor's usual companions. He'd proven himself an artist, a strategist, and now a reader. Sif had been taught to read, but rarely did, preferring to be practicing with a weapon. Hogun had never been seen to read anything but warrior's manuals that Loki knew of. Fandral _could_ read, but mostly confined himself to Vanir poetry on the rare occasions he did so, more usually having a servant read to him. Volstagg left reading to his wife and servants as an occupation unworthy of his time. Thor, of course, could read, though he had always preferred action to words, movement to books.

* * *

The captain raised his own eyebrows. "Of course I read. And yes, before you ask, I've read books on being a warrior, but I enjoy other books, too. I think, if you ever wanted to read something from Earth, you might like William Shakespeare's histories, especially Henry IV and V. They're about a prince who struggles to become a good king, despite having a... difficult time as prince." And, Steve reflected, perhaps Loki could turn himself around as Prince Hal did.

Loki looked as though he might still be amazed that a mortal could read. Or maybe it was that he, Loki, might be supposed to ever want to read a book written by a mortal. Steve swallowed. His mouth felt dry, and his heart was pounding. "And... um, look, I'm just going to say this and I don't know if you want to hear it, but I should say it. I... I'm sorry... for my part in giving you to Asgard for torture. I tried telling myself I didn't know what they were planning, but the truth is I didn't ask."

This time, the astonishment on the prince's face was apparent. "Let us be clear, Captain. Are you apologizing for not taking on Odin, Thor, the powers of your own world, for the sake of a... war criminal?" As he finished, the mask of light amusement settled over the hungry amazement that blazed in the crimson eyes.

"Yes."

Steve knew the simple word wasn't enough, despite - or perhaps because of - Loki's obvious desire for his apology. "I've always tried to fight the bullies. When I was a kid, I got beat up on every empty lot, park, and city corner within a 3-mile radius. I'd lose every single time, but the important part was fighting the good fight." He swallowed thickly. "Bullies don't care about rules. And they never listen to their victims. I know you didn't get a trial on Earth. Did you get one, a real one where you were allowed to talk, on Asgard?"

* * *

Loki stared, as though he were looking _through_ the soldier, trying to see into his very soul. "No. It is not the Aesir way. Heimdall and Odin see everything. Odin judges and gives out punishment. No one speaks. I was chained in my cell until Thor came to announce my sentence." He spoke as though explaining something everyone knew to a small child.

After a moment's silence his ever-present curiosity burned too hot to ignore. "Do mortals truly allow criminals to speak before their betters?" The notion was ludicrous, insane. Who knows what kind of reasons a murderer might give? That damned staff. _He will make you long for something so sweet as pain_. Thoughit would take a geater torture than even Odin could invent topull a confession of that humiliation from him. Once he'd avenged himself, all would be right again.

"Well, we don't exactly see it like that, but yes. We're supposed to give everybody a fair chance to tell their side of things, and even once someone has been found guilty, we're not supposed to do things like starve or torture them." The mortal took a harsh breath before continuing. "Back before I was frozen, I helped fight a war against people who did this kind of thing, but now I've helped do it to you. And nothing I can say is adequate, but I really am sorry."

By the Tree, it was the softest philosophy he'd ever heard. What kind of code was _this_ for warriors to live by? He'd come to see that Jotnar were not the mindless beasts he'd been taised to believe them, and now was he to have Midgard transform itself as well? Better to remind the Midgardian that the past was done, lest he weaken himself further. He bared his teeth in a savage smile. "If it cannot be adequate, then move past it. I survived - it takes more than Odin thought to kill me or even break me. You have fought for my name and my realm. When you return to Midgard, you will again fight for your realm, no doubt. Why weaken yourself with the past?"

* * *

Helblindi had told Byleist how to find the shelter where Prince Loki would be waiting, and the way was short. His thoughts were steadier now, his testimony given. Loki would do, or he would not and if he did not, Byleist would have to avenge himself and his world. But for now, he felt that Loki might well be Lodestone, for he turned always toward the prince.

_Why weaken yourself with the past?_ The words he heard from inside the shelter so well fit with his thoughts that he barely remembered to call a greeting before walking in. The prince sat sprawled on a bench made of ice slabs, back resting against a supporting pillar. The warrior of Midgard sat opposite, leaning forward like a supplicant, forearms resting on his thighs, head bent, only half concealing the troubled look in his eyes.

Making a formal salute, Byleist waited for the negligent hand wave that invited him to join the warrior. "Your Highness, the Moot is inclined to accept your identity, though there is still a faction that maintains you are Aesir, rather than Jotun." The look on the prince's face was an odd mixture of bemused bitterness and glittering laughter. "The argument, however, gains little traction, and even its supporters waivered when I gave my testimony of Queen Farbauti's last moments." Byleist could feel his face stiffen as he spoke her name before his uncle's killer.

Calming himself, he took a deep breath. "If your case prevails, you will be the only choice for the throne, but..."

Loki's interruption was almost gentle. "But there will be those who hold my upbringing in Asgard against me. It is the way of all the realms. And, after all, I'm certain that Odin meant me to be one of his puppet kings, like Vanaheim." His lips twisted bitterly. "That plan, at least, I've managed to throw a kink in, and may even overset, provided Jotunheim has the wisdom to choose a strong king."

Byleist felt the warrior beside him stiffen, watched Loki's thin smirk widen into a broad smile of genuine amusement. "Calm yourself, Captain Rogers. This is no fat realm, grown complacent on comforting tales of self-governance. Though I do wonder how you, of all people, continue to believe them. Did you select the one-eyed bully you defer so readily to?" Despite the grin, Loki's eyes were intent, searching.

The Midgardian remained silent, but continued to watch the prince carefully as he resumed speaking. "No, this realm has been weakened by war with Asgard and inevitable defeat at the hands of Odin. Whoever is king will have to rebuild, and will need both strength and cunning to do so. As a prince of Asgard, I had the best tutors in diplomatic history, statecraft, warcraft, languages, magic, strategy, tactics, and all the other necessary arts of kings and princes, and I can use that as a shield against Odin."

He paused for a moment, face falling into a haughty stillness, eyes glittering dangerously. "But for all the princely arts I learned, knowledge of one realm was denied me. What little knowledge there is in the golden realm of Jotunheim is mixed in with horrible tales to affright children. A king must have knowledge of his kingdom." Again, that mobile face seemed lost in some other world, only slowly surfacing to say, "But king or no, I would still learn of the land of my birth. Teach me."

* * *

Waking , Tony was momentarily dioriented. He took in the shooting pain in his joints, the hard surface on which he had slept digging into pressure points on his ribs and hips. His neck, cradled in an arm was protesting strongly as his eyes fluttered open, taking in the lowered lighting in the familiar lab he shared with Bruce. Rolling to his side, then to a sitting position on the broad workbench, he let out an involuntary groan, muttering to himself, "Damn it, getting old sucks. When did I start feeling about 90?" Gingerly stretching cramped muscles, returning bloodflow to his tingling arm helped orient him, as did the sight of Bruce casually stretched out on the cot he, Tony, usually occupied on long projects. Right, right, he'd made a note of that to JARVIS last night.

Still grumbling softly to himself, Tony made his way to the lab's kitchen to start coffee. "JARVIS, what are my breakfast options?"

"There is pancake mix in cabinet 2 and syrup in the refrigerator. Oil is cabinet 1. There are microwavable ham and egg sandwiches in the freezer, along with a selection of bagels. Only one everything bagel is left. There is a carton of scrambled eggs in the refrigerator, some long life sealed orange juice, and a pack of vacuum sealed cooked bacon."

Setting the OJ on a counter while grabbing everything else, Tony opted for eggs, bacon, and pancakes. No sense, after all, in trying to save the world on an empty stomach. Or, for that matter, on bagels with no cream cheese. And anyway, there needed to be more everything bagels. For all the shortcomings of the selection, soon the kitchen smelled wonderful.

Just as the eggs were ready, and there was a decent stack of pancakes, a touselled looking Bruce padded in, eyes gleaming. "Tony, Tony, I've got it! We were on the wrong path. A sustained field weapon is going to be too weak to be effective, but what if we try a pulse weapon?"

Tony paused a moment, obviously contemplating this breakthrough as he poured juice and coffee for two. "Wait a second, there, ol'buddy. First, eat your breakfast. I don't do the June Cleaver thing often, and when I do, you should appreciate it, especially if you're the one eating my everything bagels." Pulling two plates from the rack, he filled both, passed one over, and began on his own.

Bruce grinned. "No, you are. I prefer sesame. But just listen a moment. You know what the components will bear and for how long, but I think a pulse would be achievable, especially if we narrow the EM range we're working in..." Bruce slid the second cup of coffee back to the engineer, instead reaching for the small teapot and his canister of rooibos.

Tony took a swallow of coffee, then returned the grin. "See, this is why I need a second genius around. Set photon torpedoes to take out Mirkwood? I like it. You do realize, though, we might finally cause Fury to have that coronary I've been predicting for ages?"

* * *

Steve found himself fascinated, not only by the subject, but by the speed with which Loki learned and drew conclusions. As Byleist repeated his own memories of childhood's lessons, Loki responded by weaving them into a tale of the other realms. Frequently, a recounting of some bit of history would be met with a connection to other happenings. _Ah, so that was why... Aelfheim must have... But Vanaheim would have been... _And other times, he nodded, asking questions that revealed a keen political astuteness. _How did the nobles prevent it? Did the king reward him? _Each answer was met with another half smile of a successful inner prediction or, very occasionally, an arrested look and a flurry of clarifying questions.

The quicksilver intelligence was startling. This was the first peaceful activity the soldier had ever seen Loki enjoy so openly, even enthusiastically. The same intensity of focus was there from his memories of Loki in combat, but also a simple relish in assimilating new ideas, engaging in an exchange of the mind. A part of the captain suddenly understood why Loki had responded whenever anyone had begun speaking. This was something he craved, a contact he needed, but rarely got.

The lesson was interrupted by Helblindi who made the formal salute for the first time. "Your Highness, the Jotunmoot of Utgard has accepted your identity. Tomorrow, we resume deliberations with attention to the succession."

Loki turned fully toward the other Jotun. "May I know of any other possibilities?"

Helblindi blinked slowly, then in a voice usually reserved for children, "You are Laufey's only son. No other members of the royal family survive."

Loki's face was serious as he replied, "And yet I have a relative, a cousin, kin to Queen Farbauti." Steve felt the Jotun beside him tense.

"I told you, Your Highness, I did not seek the throne, nor do I want it." Byleist was nearly vibrating with some barely suppressed emotion, his deep ruby eyes locked on Loki. Oh, right. He'd been accused of killing his aunt for the throne. Steve could only imagine the kind of scars that would leave.

Loki turned to look at his cousin. "Right now, there are still two choices. Me, or a rejection of the monarchy entirely. Those who will reject me for my connections to the Aesir must have a viable alternative. Whether you want the burden of kingship or no, and having been a prince all my life, I well understand your reluctance..." His face suddenly looked tired, eyes pressing closed. "...Jotunheim needs a choice now. Should you be chosen, I will ask you to make me your diplomat, and thus relieve you of the burden of my presence in your realm."

Once again, Steve was surprised by Loki's gentle correction toward his cousin. He wondered if this had been the approach Loki had taken to correcting Thor's mistakes when they were children. He wondered also what plan Loki would carry out if made a diplomat.

Turning his gaze again to Helblindi, Loki resumed. "I would not leave the Jotunmoot with bound hands. I do not know your laws and customs, though it is my intent to learn them. Tell me now, is this wish of mine possible? What decision would you have made if there were no Loki?"

* * *

Loki walked once more to the large crater, this time dressed in the manner of a Jotun prince, a fine leather kilt wrapped about his hips, delicately chased armor fitted to his shoulders, the collar resting on his chest, and a white fur draped over one shoulder. The mask of serenity settled over his face every bit as gracefully as he carried the rest of the regalia.

He could sense Byleist behind him, no doubt still wearing both the other princely garments summoned by Loki's magic, and the mutinous expression he'd adopted since Helblindi had returned with word that the moot would consider both claims. Loki had spoken no less than the truth when he'd said he understood a reluctance to take the throne. In some ways, his plan could be carried out even more easily as Jotunheim's diplomatic envoy, though he suspected that were his cousin made king, it would take work on his part to get Byleist to let him leave.

And whether he understood the reluctance or not, in the end, was immaterial. There would be too large a faction opposed to a king from Asgard, even if it were not the majority. Better to give them a legitimate choice for kingship and give that choice preferment, should Byleist not be chosen as king. In any case, the succession should be seen to, and quickly. Neither would be far from the throne. He had seen before, on Vanaheim, the consequences of allowing resentment, even of a minority, fester. Jotunheim would have a choice, but in the end would be ruled as Loki saw fit.

The gathering had calmed now, and he could see the usurper between two guards, one of whom he recognized as Beli, obviously recovered from his ordeal. Taking a moment to actually look at the Jotun who had thought to steal his name, he was even more repelled. This was the very image from his childhood nightmares, a blunt, brutal face, the form both taller and bulkier than his own. The image was completed by the look of angry resentment clouding the Jotun's face. The glare was fierce enough to earn a casual blow from Beli, a hissed "show respect!" from the other guard.

Turning again to face the Jotunmoot, he began to lay out, simply and clearly, his claim to the throne as Laufey's son.

* * *

Byleist was furious. This, _this_ was the decisive creature whose mind he had, oh so briefly yet horribly, explored? He'd insisted on a full description of court dress, then had used his magic not only to clothe himself, but to refine Byleist's clothing as well. At least he was presenting the argument well based on lineage. Byleist thought that, cousin or not, true prince or not, he'd have killed Loki for doing Laufey King that final indignity.

Indeed, his own claim he knew to be a baseless fabrication, echoing treacherously the accusations of the impostor. And yet his prince demanded he set this _farce_ before all of the Jotunmoot. He had gone over the arguments, and would present them, as ordered, that he was the favored nephew of the king, the only remaining Jotun of Jotunheim raised with the personal attention of Laufey King.

And it was all truth, save for the fact that none of it made him a valid contender for the throne. The omission was even more galling than his earlier decision to keep his knowledge of Loki's past a secret. That, at least, had been common sense to avoid pitching the entire realm into chaos. This felt like treason.

His eyes slid sideways to take in the false Loki between his guards. The crafty eyes glittered back at him knowingly, looking for some weakness he could use. Byleist wanted to choke the corpse eater right there, but knew the thought was unworthy, so he set his shoulders instead, unconsciously presenting an image of proud nobility, as he heard Prince Loki conclude, looking expectantly at Byleist.

Swallowing, he stepped forward to begin the argument he so hated.

* * *

Steve awoke from a nap to the sound of footsteps. He rose as Loki swept into the room, looking thoughtful, Byleist tugged along in his wake. It would have been an amusing sight, the larger Jotun looking like a toy on a string behind Loki's smaller, slighter form, if Byleist hadn't seemed so upset. "Your Majesty! Even the moot acknowedges that I am no get of Laufey's."

"Indeed, but you are my closest relative, and like it or no, the succession _must _be established. Odin tried to get at Jotunheim once by disrupting our succession. I _will_ not allow it a second time." Turning to the soldier, he snapped, "Well, don't keep standing there witless as though you're Thor. We're headed back to the inner palace, and preparing for the coronation. We accept you for the present as the Envoy of Midgard. Since it would not be appropriate to house you in my chambers, we will command you be given state apartments commensurate with your diplomatic rank."

Not pausing for a reply, Loki swept out again and led the way back to the Utgard Fortress. As they exited the shelter, an honor guard formed around them, including a Jotun who called in a clear voice, "Make way for his Majesty, King Loki!" Crowds had gathered to either side of the path, making a high, trilling sound and saluting as Byleist had done that first day.

Whether the rooms were prepared or not, Steve had no idea. He had been summoned to the throne room in Loki's wake and set, along with Thjazi, to quickly decorating it for a coronation ceremony set to take place within a couple hours. In the meantime, Loki stood in another corner of the room, holding what looked to be an urgent conversation with Helblindi.

Steve began to wonder as he decorated whether a white rabbit in a waistcoat would hop by with a watch soon. It was ridiculous to suppose that he, Steve Rogers of Brooklyn, was on another planet, getting ready to bear witness for all of Earth to the crowning of Loki, of all people, who had attempted to invade and been fought off by that same Captain Rogers.

* * *

Byleist had been set to ordering the household to prepare rooms. His Majesty had ordered a diplomatic suite for the Midgardian, and Royal suites for himself and Byleist. Others were to be housed appropriately to their rank. Byleist had carried out the orders, seeing also to provisioning a feast, to the extent possible, for a celebration. Most Jotnar would be getting shrimp and fungus, with only a thin slice of dried boar, but at least all would be fed, and there would be some dried fruit from Vanaheim for the Royal party and the Lawspeakers of the Jotunmoot.

Idi had come to help him, and he'd been sent to summon Thrym to speak with him about guards for the ceremony. The conversation had gone well, as had reintroducing Idi to Thrym. What had _not _gone well was the conversation on the succession. Loki had informed him that, pending Helblindi's advice, Byleist would be named heir. He'd also wanted advice on picking a partner. Byleist had simply referred him to Thrym, knowing himself to be far too young to arrange matches.

When the warrior arrived, Byleist would tell him of the other looming crisis. Since Loki had not been raised on Jotunheim, he'd not had a mentor. Now, both because of his age, and because he was a sitting monarch, mentorship was clearly impossible, but he would need someone to fulfill some of the duties, such as matchmaking and helping him to understand the duties of a Jotun.

* * *

Steve had been shepherded to the front of the room just before it filled with hundreds of Jotnar. Even here, the perpetual half light ruled, this time, though, the wall themselves seemed to fluoresce with a delicate blue light. The throne itself was a thing of icy beauty, seeming almost carved from the jagged landscape.

The procession had been accompanied by a deep swell of sound, striking strange harmonics which echoed in the ice and stone of the hall. From where he stood, he could see the patterns Thjazi and he had created behind the throne, swirling together in harmony, and hoped they would prove a prediction of peaceful cooperation for the new king. Silently, he bowed his head and added his own prayers to the speeches being made at the base of the throne.

He was distracted from his prayer when Loki mounted the throne, and a slim silver circlet was placed on his head. The tall Jotun who had done this gave the formal salute, then backed down from the small stage on which it was set. Again, the music of the Jotnar swelled, beautiful and haunting, slowly dying to a low thrum. Loki then stood, smiling widely.

"Jotnar, I salute you as your new king. On this day, We promise you to ensure Jotunheim's rightful place among the worlds. We will see our realm flourish and regain pride. In order to do this, we will need advisors and the good will of all Jotnar. Therefore are we minded to raise our much beloved cousin Byleist Naljarson to the position Duke of Utgard." Byleist advanced, face blank. Whatever the argument between Byleist and Loki, it was apparant who had lost.

Loki laid hands on his cousin's head, then gesturd to a space near the throne, obviously set aside for the newly created duke. "Further, we would make him regent for our interests whenever our Royal Person shall travel from Jotunheim." A muscle had begun to twitch in Byleist's face.

"Next, we would have the Lawspeaker Helblindi Egdirson approach." Loki's face was almost sublimely serene, a solemn look in the normally firey eyes. "Lawspeaker, you have done much for our Royal Interests, proving yourself a true advisor, willing to stand for the right course and render good counsel, even at risk to yourself." At last, a touch of humor lightened that face, tilting the corners of the mouth up. "Therefore are we minded to create you seneschal of our fortress of Utgard, there to render your counsel and aid to our Cousin in all that he does."

Again, the hands descended to Helblindi's head, and he was gestured to a space next to, but just behind Byleist. As he took his position, Helblindi knocked elbows with Byleist, earning a startled look, then a minute relaxation of the tension that had held the younger Jotun stiff.

But again, Loki was speaking. "We would have the warrior, Thrym Mimirson, approach." Again that solemn stillness came over the new king. "You have served our House well, from your time serving my Royal Father, through your tutorship of our much loved cousin, Duke of Utgard. I would ask you serve us yet again, giving your goodly counsel to our Royal Person, and heading our guard and army." Thrym made a formal salute, touching head, chest, and hip, before bending his head before the royal hands. Loki gestured to the other side of the throne, where Thrym took his own position.

Then Loki drew himself to his full height. "As pledge of the prosperity we will see within our realm, we wish all our Jotnar to bear witness to the prize I have liberated from its captivity in Asgard. Making a complicated gesture in the air, Loki brought forth a brightly glowing blue box, which pulsed like a living thing in his hands. "The Casket of Ancient Winters is returned to Jotunheim!"

The music which had greeted Loki's entrance and crowning was as nothing to the deep resonance that now shook through Steve's very bones. The Casket itself seemed to brighten and dim with the music. Steve wondered what manner of item it was, seeing the unalloyed joy on every face. When Loki broke the moment by handing the Casket with a few whispered words to Byleist, Steve found himself oddly disappointed without knowing precisely why.

The rest had been anticlimactic, a brief speech by Loki followed by a dismissal. The next room had been laid with an enormous feast, one which grated a little bit on the part of Steve which had survived the Depression. Knowing that here, too, food was not a guarantee every day made the tables filled with it seem overdone somehow. He thought again of the too-thin form weighing nothing in his arms and wondered what he ate tonight.

Wandering through the gathering, he spotted a few familiar faces, warriors from Byleist's group, and gravitated toward them. Just as he'd begun to listen to their recounting of the day's events, a small Jotun came to tell him he was wanted in the throne room.

* * *

Loki had settled much. He'd demonstrated enough of the workings of the Casket to Byleist to ensure he could use it to begin the rebuilding of Thruthheim. Helblindi had helped him understand the legal options for dealing with the usurper, of which the most appealing had been to turn him over to the moot for judgement, thus ridding any opposition of the chance to say he had acted in spite or malice. And he'd had a most... enlightening conversation with Thrym on the succession and how to secure a partner for his role in it. He'd also given certain instructions to all three concerning his visit to Midgard.

Watching Captain Rogers approach the throne, Loki smiled at the soldier. "Well, now that that has been settled, I think we'd best be getting you back to Earth, no? And I have some... propositions to lay before those with the authority to treat with me." Long fingers seemed to lay out the offer on the air. "I would have you take me again to your one-eyed director." He relished the moment of panic that showed in the soldier's eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thank you, everybody, for sticking with this so far. It's been an interesting go, but school is starting again, and my free time will be going bye-bye. So here is one last (extra long) chapter to wind things up for now. I hope when more of my time is my own to work on a sequel.

* * *

The electric thrum of transit by magic seemed to settle under Steve's skin, vibrating to a rhythm that never became familiar, though he now began to recognize the feel of it. But just as his arrival in Jotunheim had been painful, so too was his return to Earth. While Jotunheim had been the bone-chilling cold, Earth burned with the heat of a thousand suns, and again, his lungs fought for air to breathe, though this time, it felt too thick, like trying to breathe water. The Jotun body, Loki had said, was obviously designed to survive, for while it was painful, some part of him knew it to be survivable, even as he felt cold pooling around his lungs, beginning to change them. The hand on the back of his neck stung, like needles tearing into the skin, but it was a welcome pain, seeming to clear the tension in his chest as once again, he took clear breath, felt the Jotun melt into humanity.

JARVIS greeted their return first with an alarm, then once it had established their identities, with a request to hold while he opened communications. Since both were hungry from the transit, Steve and Loki headed for the kitchen shelves and took a couple of survival meals each to eat while they talked with the voices that came from the wall. Loki promptly stole the crackers and jam from Steve's first packet as soon as it was opened.

"Cap! Are you okay? JARVIS, I know we have visual links. Open visual comm."

A small screen opened on the wall opposite the shelves, revealing a frantic looking Tony and a much calmer Bruce, both in the lab with components and some large device spread out before them. Both seemed relieved at the sight of a healthy and smiling Steve, though Tony narrowed his eyes at the other figure in the room. "Oh, joy. You brought him back. But you know he's not under warranty anymore, right? So we don't have to take him, especially if you don't have a receipt." Despite the flip tone, his eyes were scanning the soldier's face now, obviously looking for signs of mind control.

Loki's eyes glittered dangerously. "Rest your mind, Stark. Captain Rogers is unharmed and under no control but his own. If he will bear me company but a bit longer, however, I would speak with your director. Are you able to put us into contact?"

Wearily, Tony pushed blunt fingers through his thick brown hair. "Um, yeah, we could do a comm link for you guys, just like this one, but, no offense here, Rudolph, we're kind of busy out here. You're not the only one with an army these days, you know? Apparently, you're a trend leader." He reached down for a large mug, taking a steadying sip. "First you, now some queen of the elves. Even if I always thought it was supposed to be Elrond or maybe Galadriel -"

Loki interrupted in an instant, putting his hand up to stop the flow of words from the engineer. "Wait a moment. You have the Queen of Aelfheim _invading_?" The clear surprise on his face was quickly replaced by a satisfied smirk. "I'll be right out with the good captain. Just don't leave your machines."

"Don't worry. If you're on your way, I won't leave my armor. One trip down the side of my tower was more than enough for this lifetime."

* * *

The increasingly familiar sensation of travel by portal was no worse this time than it had been on Jotunheim. Steve tried to keep track of all he could, knowing that aside from the details SHIELD would want, Bruce and Tony would demand everything he could possibly remember, and then they'd hook him up to sensors for a month.

Stark Tower's landing pad felt like a homecoming, despite the fact that he hadn't been on it since the day the Avengers had fought the Chitauri. As they strolled into the glass-enclosed room adjoining, Steve noted the progress, the lack of a Loki-sized hole in the floor and the smooth glass where Tony had taken his unplanned exit. A sideways glance told him Loki was remembering, too. While there was no sign as clear as a shudder, the eyes very carefully did not stray to the newly mended floor, and their progress through the room was rapid. JARVIS just managed to greet them as they were exiting.

"Captain Rogers and Mr. Loki of Asgard -"

The AI got no further. "King Loki of Jotunheim, if you please."

"Captain Rogers?" The voice was coolly inquiring. Steve wondered for a weak moment when he'd become Loki's official truth reference, and when he could stop.

"His Majesty is telling the truth. I was at the coronation. It's okay. Where do we go now?" The open atrium the door had led to featured several glass elevators, and they were guided to one slightly apart from the others, which took them rapidly to the lab level, where doors opened and closed as they walked through.

As they walked in the room to a fully suited up Iron Man and a carefully neutral Bruce Banner, the lab bench in front of them was just closing over the device he'd seen on the video link. Bruce approached Steve tentatively. "You okay, Cap? We were worried when you disappeared, and thought maybe you'd been taken hostage.

Iron Man had not taken his attention from Loki for even a fraction of a second. "JARVIS says you've king now. So why do you need to worry at all about us? Just so you know, I don't kneel for foreign dignitaries, and don't plan to start."

* * *

"Indeed. The protocol is not, in fact, to kneel before me." Loki's face was coldly aloof, his bearing regal, yet he tilted his head graciously. "As citizens of another realm, you may merely nod your head to me, particularly since I am here in a diplomatic role to make certain offers. Really, it's not difficult. Your Captain Rogers can explain it to you if necessary." His mouth twisted for just a moment before he continued. "It's bad enough I had to tutor Thor. I refuse to take up the education of all his friends as well."

Oh, this was _delicious_. The necessity of restraint on Jotunheim had been wearing on him more than he'd known, and now he was free to land a few verbal blows, he could feel the knot of tension loosening. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction that the craftsman had survived the fall from his own window, if only to allow Loki the pleasure of baiting him. Sadly, it appeared Jotnar had no tradition of flyting, something Loki had been very good at and would definitely miss. While Stark had other faults, he could insult him freely in the expectation that the mortal would merely try to hold his own, rather than shut down the conversation.

Which thought only served to remind him of his purpose, which was not to engage in poetic insult contests, but to make an arrangement with the Queen of Aelfheim, and then one with the authorities of Midgard. So he would need these mortals, and later, if all went well, he would need their goodwill. So rather than continuing to antagonize them, it was time to make himself agreeable. "I have certain guesses as to why the Queen is on your doorstep. Shall we consider the possibilities over a meal?"

* * *

Steve watched as Loki made his way through the colorful crowd, blazing a trail directly to the throne. Bearing in mind Mimir's warning, he kept his eyes either on the ground or on Loki's shoulder, lest he find himself enchanted. As they grew closer, he became more determined, catching from the corner of his eye the dark red hair and slim black jumpsuit of Natasha, a splash of grey and black curled at the foot of the throne had to be Clint. His hand tightened reflexively on the grip of his shield, recovered from Tony while Loki had brought most of the contents of the main refrigerator down to the lab level.

"But how charming! Prince Loki, I had hoped to find you on Midgard and here you are. Once I had heard that you were back among the Nine, yet not wishing to remain in Asgard's court, I had a small proposition to put to you. And what a beautiful warrior you have, quite delicious, you know. So shy, too, with his eyes ever on the ground." He could hear the faint thread of malice in the last statement and felt warmth rising in his cheeks.

Suddenly Loki rounded on him, giving an open-handed smack to the back of his head. "I _will_ not have you playing the blushing maiden when you are in my entourage. Look up when you are in the service of Jotunheim!" Steve was startled to feel the tingle of magic in Loki's touch, and looked up to see the King of Jotunheim winking at him with a playful quirk of the lips. Then he looked further up, able to feel the waves of compulsion surrounding him, but unaffected himself.

She was both beautiful and repulsive, the long planes of her face elegant and harsh, dominated by liquid black eyes and ending in a pointed chin beneath a thin smile showing sharp teeth. It was the face of a predator, remorseless and graceful. All around them, Aelfar milled with a purpose centered around their queen. It reminded Steve of nothing so much as a beehive, deadly and productive at the same time.

* * *

Clint was furious. That _bitch, _with her hand resting on his scalp, had him controlled, a puppet on a short string, along with Natasha. Oh, Natasha... he wanted to cry, wanted to grab his bow and lay waste, wanted to free them both. As he watched Loki strike _Captain America_, he wanted more strongly than ever to put an arrow through the bastard's eye. Pity he could only see his back. None of his wishes were remotely possible, especially since he couldn't even control his own body.

As Loki turned again toward the throne, he looked deep for just a second into Clint's eyes. As Loki looked, he must have caught sight somehow of Clint's own thoughts still alive within the thought-controlled shell of his body, because Loki's eyes suddenly danced. Clint had never wanted so desperately to kill anyone. The bastard could see he was still inside and he was _laughing_ about it.

Further, he waved his hand dismissively. "It's so difficult with mortals. They really don't know how to conduct themselves among the Realms. Let us leave the children to play while we speak privately." He drew out the last word, tilting his head and holding his hand out until the queen stood to take it. Both made mirror gestures of dismissal and began strolling toward a small stand of trees.

Clint hardly dared to believe, even when he saw Steve strolling toward him, felt the control exerted over him wane slightly. He'd seen Steve accept the slap from Loki calmly, without flinching. He didn't remember Loki hitting anyone when he'd had the staff, but that had been before he'd been defeated by the Avengers. No, it was obvious that Steve had been compromised. There would be no help from him.

Still, it was a comforting moment when he felt that large hand gripping his shoulder, reminding him of friendship even in the broken world they were left to live in. But really, he thought, we're all compromised, so we might as well take comfort in being together for however much time we have left. The hand on his shoulder shifted slightly and turned him to walk toward Natasha, who stood near the edge of the circle of Aelfar.

As Steve passed the assassin, he reached out his other hand to her shoulder and began to steer both SHIELD agents down the hill. Clint began to exert his will, struggling against the weight of the compulsion pressing in on him. Between the slight weakening of the force exerted on him and the strength he took from the reminder of his friendship with Steve, he found himself taking control of one arm, one hand, able to reach across, taking Natasha's hand in his own, just to feel her slim fingers in his own. For just a moment, he felt as though she gave the slightest squeeze in return.

There might never be another day of freedom if Loki and Titania intended to ally their powers, and even Captain America and two top SHIELD agents were under enemy control. If Clint could manage it, the arm he had freed would have to be used to make one last attempt at either freedom or death for all of them.

But for now, if the world was ending, he would narrow his world to these fragile points of connection, and he would not be alone at the end. If that thought made him a selfish bastard, then so be it.

Distracted by his own thoughts, he didn't notice until the hand left his shoulder and knocked his head together with Natasha's.

* * *

"So Asgard's royal suicide is now King of Jotunheim." Titania's face lit with unholy amusement. "Oh, this _is _rich. I'm sure Thor has told you how miserable he was, walking around positively haggard, as though he'd never see a tournament again. It really was pathetic, you know. I think Odin only kept him in public view for fear everyone would think him dead along with you." Her laugher had a razor's edge to it. "Thor wouldn't say anything, but Odin set himself to spreading a story of invading Jotnar. Anyone with half a brain knows believing Odin uncritically is bad for the health, plus, of course, the independence of one's realm. So I scried for myself." Her thin lips were set in a habitually predatory snarl.

"Odin managed to cover over most of whatever it was that happened. It's all caught up in one of his runes, so even my best crystal ball was basically useless, except for the second you let go of Gungnir." Her eyes were sly as she slid them sideways to look at him. "Your energy and Thor's concentrated on the same moment, so I'm sure Odin couldn't have found enough energy to bind that moment if he'd stolen it from every realm. No offense meant, of course. If I'd had to live with Odin, I'm sure I'd have jumped into the nearest wormhole, too."

The Aelfar didn't understand pity. Loki had always understood this intellectually, but had never experienced it quite so viscerally as the moment he caught the curious, unfeeling glint in her eyes, analyzing his reaction to her story as she continued. "But comfortable as gossip is, you know, it's not the reason I came to Midgard."

"I'm just a trifle caught off guard by your new status. I had intended to offer you the protection of the Aelfar, for even Odin is still a little cautious about Aelfheim and Svartaelfheim. Besides, I've been considering a new consort for awhile. You'd have been amusing to talk to, and could have helped me think of the most _delicious_ ways to trigger that temper of Odin's." Her smile was feral, reminding Loki that her last consort had been a Vanir prince who'd gone on to become Asgard's foe in the Aesir-Vanir war.

His own was devious as he replied, "Oh, I'm sure I could come up with something more elegant than simply inciting one of the satellite states. But to do that, you would have had to bring me to you, and I know that neither as I fell, nor after I... landed, did I feel the touch of your magic. I would have remembered that."

"I started trying to find you the minute I knew what had happened, but Odin beat me to it. Wherever you were, his runecraft covered your presence completely. It wasn't until I received a vision of this pretty bauble..." She gestured with the scepter she carried and he felt the sickening waves of compulsion accompanied by elven glamour wash over him. "... that I had even an idea of where to find you, and knew I absolutely must."

Again, her curious eyes had been hungrily on his face. But he knew he'd defeated that gaze. He refused to allow his fury to the surface, deliberately not clenching his teeth or allowing his eyes to flash. There would be time to deal later with the knowledge that Odin had known where he was, what was being done to him, for every second he'd been in the hands of those scum, later.

Knowing a blank face would tell as much as a snarl, he slid the planes of his face into a seductive smile, adding just a touch of extra persuasiveness to his voice. "I have something you could do now, just a little something that would irritate him quite a bit. It's a two-part trade, one side to my advantage, and one side to yours."

Her entire demeanor radiated suspicion. "How is it that you are true King of Jotunheim, Laufey and Farbauti's missing son, I presume?" He bowed his head elegantly. "And thus obviously no Odinson, yet Thor is transparent as glass and you are opaque and devious as Odin?"

His smile infused a hint of broken ice as he made an elegant gesture with one hand. "I assure you, I had the best tutor possible. Thor never did pay attention to lessons." Her tinkling laugh rung out in the tiny copse they had found.

"You see, I knew you'd be an entertaining conversationalist. Your… mother was charming, you know. But do tell me your scheme, or if you won't tell the whole, tell me my part in it, and I'll do my best to guess the rest." Smile forgotten, she watched him hungrily.

"First, your advantage. I have the Tesseract, which I recovered first from Midgard, and then from Asgard's treasure vault. I am willing to trade it for certain concessions. I want the scepter you hold in your hand, and I want a certain agreement from you regarding Jotunheim's security.

* * *

Clint felt the walls of compulsion shatter under the ringing pain of the blow. He turned to see consciousness returning to Natasha's compelling eyes. He would never forget seeing them as he came to himself in the helicarrier. As he watched her blink back the pain, he noticed his hand still wrapped around hers. Embarrassed by his own lack of professionalism, he attempted to draw back, but felt her grip, then tug, his hand. Suddenly, he felt both too close and too far.

The moment was gone, however, when Steve quietly cleared his throat. "No wish to intrude, but the transmitter Tony gave me has been going off since we left the Aelfar behind. Tony should be here any second. Cap's eyes were their usual clear blue, and Loki hadn't been able to exert his mind control over Tony last time. So the bastard was playing some long game then, drawing the Avengers in for whatever plot that devious mind was currently hatching. Clint had no plans to relax his vigilance any time soon.

Glancing across at Natasha, he saw an echoing suspicion in her face, and wished they could drop the constant need for spying, the need to figure everything out. But it wasn't so, and wishing belonged in fairy tales. Just as he was trying to puzzle out the probable end to which they were to be put, Tony arrived, using his repulsors to gently lower himself among the trees.

"Okay, boys and girls, one ride per ticket. Nobody shorter than her or taller than me may ride. That puts you out, Cap, and management assumes no responsibility for dizziness in the presence of Iron Man." He held out an arm to each of the SHIELD agents, told them to put their arms around his neck, then wrapped his own arms around their waists.

Clint could feel the slight wobble as they rose, slowly steadying as they gained momentum. "Damn. I really need to work on this concept a little more. The weight distribution is a real mess, but luckily, the tower isn't far. There's a quinjet waiting there for you, but I do have a message from Loki, just in case Steve didn't get it in."

Clint felt dread wash through him. Loki's message would be something awful, then they'd drop to the ground below. It wasn't far enough yet to be deadly, but would be soon enough. "Loki thinks it would save energy if you guys could carpool to the helicarrier, plus he'd be present to engage any hostiles you might encounter, but the choice is up to you. Or he could just, you know, do that magic that he do so well. Either way."

Clint couldn't decide if the clenching in his stomach was the flight or the thought of an hour in a quinjet with Loki. On the other hand, letting Loki just bop around as he pleased wasn't a comforting thought, either. Damn it. He'd be taxiing that bastard. Again.

* * *

Returning to the hill where court had been held, Steve walked through the crowd of Aelfar, keeping an eye open for the lanky form in black that now registered immediately as Jotun. He wondered briefly how the Aesir had not seen it through all the centuries Loki had been among them. As it was, Steve desperately wanted to get back to his Brooklyn apartment and spend weeks just sketching everything that now sat only in his head.

Aiming for a likely looking clump of trees nearby, he thought he caught a glimpse of red hair, a lanky, too dark shadow. Approaching, he heard a gentle note in the familiar dark voice. "I believe you to be one of the few powers capable of holding onto this."

Loki was handing the odd container with the Tesseract over. The scepter was nowhere in sight. "Send to me if anything seems out of place. An agreement with Jotunheim is, naturally, an agreement with me." So saying, he turned toward Steve, smiling invitingly. "Ah, the esteemed Captain Rogers has found me again. Allow us to offer our farewells. Steve followed his lead, nodding the head, then turning to leave the park.

As green gave way to pavement, Loki gestured toward the distinctive tower in the middle distance. "It seems a pleasant walk. Shall we?"

* * *

As Captain Rogers walked quietly beside him, Loki looked at the surrounding buildings. Much of the street had already been rebuilt, but the storefronts still had plastic sheeting instead of glass. Several had handmade signs announcing variously that businesses were open, closed, or no longer accepting credit. The whole thing radiated an air of brokenness, especially with the people gone.

The familiar thought echoed. He was a monster. But now, apparently, he couldn't even blame his Jotun nature. Perhaps he really should be considered a son of Odin. Was this any worse than Vanaheim after its loss? Indeed, Vanaheim had been far more devastated, but that had been Odin's glory and this was Loki's fault. The self-loathing twisted like serpents in his belly, devouring him from within.

Seeming to catch the trend of his thoughts, Captain Rogers quietly remarked, "It was worse, before. Many New Yorkers went elsewhere. People are just now beginning to slowly trickle back." His face grew pensive. "I'm glad I'm getting to see it this time. The last time I saw destruction like this, it often seemed like a nearly hopeless fight, and then I took a 70-year nap in the ice. When I woke up, they told me that we'd won, but it didn't seem real."

He drew a deep breath then continued. "There's been a lot of work to get it to this point. They brought in road crews from all over the country to help out. People worked insane overtime. Others did what they could to help the crews. Tony housed them in 5 floors of Stark Tower."

Loki had no idea what the captain's intent was in telling him this. He wished the soldier would either get to the point or be silent. Maybe his face mirrored the confusion and impatience, because Rogers began to explain.

"What I'm trying to say is that even places that only saw your invasion on television helped out. There were donations from all over the world, including some places that often need help themselves. Everyone sent people, money, or both. Manhattan wasn't left to suffer alone." Again, the deep breath.

"I went hungry, not much, but some, during the Depression, and there wasn't always money for a doctor when I got sick. That shouldn't happen. Nobody should let that kind of suffering happen again." This time, he sought Loki's eyes with his own. "Not to you, and not to the Jotnar. I don't know what you're planning to talk to Fury about, but remember that."

Whatever Loki had thought to expect, the implication that he shouldn't have to suffer alone had not even been ranked among the possibilities. Loki had _always_ suffered alone. "What cheap sentiment are you wallowing in now?" The acid response seemed to cover the aching wounds left exposed by the implication of sympathy in the captain's clumsy speech.

"It's not cheap sentiment when I've put my own body on the line for Jotunheim, when I'm willing to do so again if I ever need to. And I meant what I said when I apologized for not making sure you would be humanely treated. I also meant what I said when I said that you shouldn't have to suffer alone. That was an offer. Don't make me regret it."

They both walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

The beautifully smooth takeoff was no comfort. He'd been damned well compromised _again_. And now Loki was aboard with him _again_. All Clint wanted to do now was climb to the highest point he could find and just clear his head. He'd had an hour on top of the tower, but it just hadn't been enough. He hadn't even invited Tasha to sit copilot with him. He just wanted to be alone.

And to add to the whole experience, just as he'd gotten to altitude, the bastard had somehow convinced Cap and Tasha to let him move forward. "I don't want to talk to you. I know you helped make the plan down there. Fine. Thank you. Now, just please leave me alone and let me fly."

If the world were fair, the bastard would have done something to justify Clint trying to kill him then and there. He would have said or done something to make himself a threat, a target. Instead, he'd only said, "I'm sorry." What the Hell? I'm sorry? Just like that, like a kindergartener who'd stolen a crayon?

* * *

"I came here to make reparations to Midgard, Earth, for my actions here. You, most of all, suffered, you and Doctor Selvig." Loki looked at the stern face beside him, stone faced with suppressed anger. "I remember the feel of the staff's influence, the taste of bitter metal on my tongue, the walls pressing on me."

Slowly, the grey-blue eyes blinked. "You were controlled, too." When it came, it wasn't a question. The hawk had not merely heart, but intelligence for his kind. Loki wondered for an irrelevant moment how these mortals regarded Thor, who was certainly not as stupid as he sometimes seemed, but rarely bothered himself with deep thought.

But again, he had work to do. "I do not ask your forgiveness. I ask only that when I offer reparations, you do not stand in my way." The granite face hardened still further.

Barton's voice was low, rough, and furious as he responded. "You really are a rat bastard, you know, a total rat bastard. You think I don't know. You think you're the only son of a bitch who's ever been compromised." Banked fury lit his glare as Barton turned to face Loki. "You fucking think I don't know how much you want forgiveness for doing whatever they made you do." The assassin returned his gaze to the instruments before him. "Just shows what you know, Mister God of All You Survey."

These mortals were incomprehensible. First Rogers, now Barton, rolling out with these odd sentiments and beliefs. Perhaps they tolerated Thor after all, from their boundless well of whatever this was. Whatever the reason, he owed this particular mortal a recompense.

"I don't deserve it. I was born a Prince of Jotunheim and raised a Prince of Asgard. It was my duty not to permit such coercion to occur." The chorus of condemnation had started again. Damn these mortals for making him listen to it so much.

"And I'm a top SHIELD agent. I've had the best training Earth can give. It was my duty to stop you. And I didn't. It goes both ways. So stop bullshitting me and let me fly already." He said nothing more. And really, what could Loki say in the face of such naïve confidence that being a mortal spy was the same as being a prince of gods?

So that, it would appear, was that.

* * *

They had arrived on the Helicarrier and were preparing to move inside when the lightning came, arcing cloud to cloud in a blue-white blaze. Barely a moment later, accompanied by a deafening roar of thunder, Thor landed on the deck. Before Loki knew what had happened, Rogers was standing between himself and Thor.

Barton had moved into a defensive stance, bow in hand, in the shadow of the quinjet. Romanov took one look at the archer and moved into Loki's shadow, just out of reach for the moment, but easily able to move forward with no warning. Whether this was to protect or to threaten, Loki was unsure, but felt it could easily go either way, depending on the events to unfold.

Thor's voice boomed out, over the roar of the turbines. "Loki Odinson, I am here by the authority of the All-Father to take you into Asgardian custody, there to serve the sentence that has been passed from the Throne."

Just as Loki prepared to twist a knife down from the straps at his wrist, Captain Rogers smoothly interposed. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot allow that."

The look of astonishment on the Thunderer's face was something Loki would cherish for centuries to come. It was a perfect concoction of outraged power – _oh, yes, Thor, do tell me again how much more humble your time on Midgard made you_ – befuddlement, and sheer loss of temper. The familiar ozone tang permeated the air.

"You do not understand, Son of Roger. Father and Heimdall continue to work on repairing the Bifrost. I was able to use the power of Mjolnir to charge it for my trip here and my return. We can leave, even if you have not yet recovered the Tesseract from him. I can return for it."

"I'm sorry sir." Steve had interposed himself firmly, shield at the ready. "I cannot allow you to interfere with a diplomatic envoy in the performance of his duty within this realm." Loki nearly doubled over with laughter at the deepening confusion and anger in Thor's face. He probably would have, if he hadn't had much more important things on his mind at that very moment, but he stored it away for later.

"Has my brother's madness infected you? Does he now control you?" The air itself crackled with unspent ions, as Thor's actinic blue eyes flashed lightning of their own to rival that arcing through the clouds overhead.

Loki judged it time to intervene. "No, Thor. He has merely had the wisdom, time, and opportunity to reflect on certain truths you ought to have learned from our tutors, had you not consistently spent your time at lessons in drawing dragons and swords on your slate."

Again, the Captain intervened. "This is neither the time nor the place for explanations. This is making us late for a meeting with Director Fury. If everyone will please step inside, we can begin sorting out who will attend and who will take care of business elsewhere." Loki liked the firm efficiency with which Rogers had handled Thor. It boded well for the reception his message would receive.

As they all stepped inside the helicarrier, Romanov drew herself and the archer aside, murmuring something about needing to report to the on-board clinic for medical debriefing. The captain led them directly to Fury, who nodded curtly at Thor's tight-lipped request to join the meeting.

* * *

The room was beautiful in a severe way. A large steel table curved gracefully to accommodate several sculpted chairs around it. One screen at the end of the table held an image of Stark and Banner, this time in a luxuriously appointed sitting room.

Stark greeted the new arrivals by lifting a glass of amber colored liquid and taking a sip before announcing, "Galadriel and the rest of Lothlorien seem to have gone their merry way, and New York is back to being itself, with little more damage than a larger-than-usual renfest crowd would be expected to cause, so your trend leader status is beginning to slip, there, Rudolph. Not that we don't appreciate your sacrifices for the greater good." His smirk was a masterpiece of smug mockery.

A faint smile drifted across Loki's face. "Well, then, let us begin. First, I must let you know that by authority of the Jotunmoot of Utgard, I am King of Jotunheim and of the Jotnar. You would say frost giants. For confirmation of this, you may consult Captain Steve Rogers. He was present for the decision and the enthronement ceremony. My heir and current regent, Byleist, Duke of Utgard is eagerly awaiting my return." He nodded to the soldier as he paused to let this sink in.

Fury glared at him. "I don't know what the _fuck_ game you're trying to play, but on this world, king or no, you're a war criminal, and we have penalties for that."

The smile grew fractionally wider as one long, slender hand came up to gently tap at his lips in a pensive gesture at odds with the unholy amusement in his eyes. "Ah. I ought, perhaps, mention that my cousin has little desire to inhabit my honours. He, along with the marshal of our army and the seneschal of our most prominent holding are eagerly awaiting my return from this realm." His eyes briefly cut to Thor, who had been standing dumbstruck, at this news. "Naturally, I have left them with the Casket of Ancient Winters and the means of reaching me."

Wide blue eyes grew wider. "You would dare threaten Midgard yet again with your foolish ambition!"

The lazy smile remained in place, even as Loki's voice became a whipcrack in the tense room. "I threaten nothing, _Prince_ Thor. I merely observe that Earth might find it a point of diplomatic sensitivity to hold the legitimate ruler of another realm captive." He would cherish for a very long time the frustrated, angry looks on Thor's and Fury's faces. "I have just concluded an agreement with Her Majesty of Aelfheim. I am not at present certain that you have authority from His Majesty of Asgard to treat with me, especially since relations between our realms have historically been... tense."

It was amazingly satisfying to be able to dismiss Thor, to not only be his equal, but to be master of the situation. Settling his hands gracefully on the table before him, Loki allowed himself a moment to take in the various reactions. Thor, of course, was nearly vibrating with anger. Stark's face was impassive, yet the eyes held a glitter of intrigued fascination. Fury was visibly controlling himself, one hand rhythmically clenching at his side. Captain Rogers merely sent Loki a warning glance, clearly waiting for the point.

Now, for the coup de grace. "Director Fury, while I am not fully certain of your authority, either, I am certain of your ability to obtain it. I am here to offer concessions and advancement to your realm in return for the pardon of my Royal Self. In return for this, I offer help with problems which plague your world and which my people have the means to resolve." He turned toward the camera presumably feeding his image to the tower. "In reparation for the damages to this planet, I offer glacier restoration over the next five Earth years. I offer Mr. Stark the opportunity to examine the technology we will use to effect this restoration for use in improving the energy resources available to your planet." The impassive look on Stark's face was gone, replaced by naked hunger. The engineer, at least, was now ready to listen.

"And just how the Hell am I supposed to believe someone who has invaded with an alien army, killed my people, and controlled people's minds?" The glare from his single eye made Loki want to giggle. It was far from the impressive weight of Odin's majestic gaze, almost a parody of it.

Raising an eyebrow, Loki returned, "And how do wars and invasions end, if not diplomacy? I suppose if you want, we can discuss officially, at this table, my body count, but I would reserve the right to answer each charge." Pausing for a second to allow anyone to take him up on the offer, he drank in Fury's scowl. _Keep your secrets, little spy_, he thought viciously, _but if you want _me_ to keep them, you will play by _my_ rules_. _Whatever you did with your own agent, it is clear you do not want others to know. So take your choice: accuse me of the death and allow me to reveal the lie, or be silent._ The glitter in the narrowed eye before him was a clear indication of the spymaster's comprehension of the situation.

"As for mind control, while I have the means..." A rapid gesture summoned an illusion of the staff, causing everyone in the room to leap to their feet. Just as quickly, he dismissed it again. "I have no desire to once again submit to the will of its master. It is my current intent to attempt its destruction, as a threat to the security of all the realms."

He sent a glittering smile in the direction of a confused Thor. This really was _far_ too easy. "I would ask for your help, using Mjolnir, dear prince, but I suspect you had best ask your king first. In fact, it would seem that your current mission could lead to open war with Jotunheim." He arranged his face to reflect a regretful commiseration. "And since that _was_ what got you into trouble last time, I really do think you'd best consult with your king and with Heimdall on the best course to follow. If you hurry, I might still be negotiating when you get back."

Thor sent him a resentful glance before stalking out of the room. He turned his head at the doorway. "I will consult them, Brother. But I will return. Your refusal to take responsibility for your actions will not please Father. I had been pleading for a commutation of your sentence, but I fear my pleas will fall on deaf ears now." _Oh, Thor, still deluding yourself that the All-Father is all-kind_. Any such thought should have fled at the sentence he had sent Thor to announce, but Thor was slow to understand anything he didn't want to understand. He always had been.

He couldn't resist one last shot, however. "Thor, while you're there, ask Heimdall what concealed my presence with the Chitauri until I came to hold the Tesseract." He smiled sweetly at the bafflement in Thor's eyes and waited for the door to close behind him.

Turning back to Fury once the Thunderer was truly gone, Loki raised his hands in an elegant gesture, magic sparkling green and gold in the room. "Well, now that Asgard no longer has an ear to the keyhole, I can say that the reparations are frankly the smaller part of the deal. My offer is, of course, about more than my personal... redemption." He let the last word hover in the air for a moment. "If I wished to evade Midgardian or even Asgardian vengeance for my actions, I believe I have proven my ability to do so." Fury's eyebrows climbed up his forehead as tension marked his face.

"Oh, I still offer reparations. Everyone, please do be seated. I have pressing issues in my own realm that demand my personal attention; I give my word I have no intention of invading your realm. If Mr. Stark wishes to create a fund to be drawn from technological advances I will give, I believe it will be amply funded." He spread his fingers wide as he shrugged lightly. "But your realm is forever at war with itself over resources that could be used to advance your position that you need not be at the mercy of all others. Such a development would be to my realm's advantage. I am honestly offering a chance at that warm light I spoke of once." Once again, a wry smile to indicate he understood the irony of his offer.

"Further, of course, I offer a seat at the table, something Asgard has never done. Earlier... situations arose from Asgard's willingness to use your planet as an unwitting penal colony and place to keep inconvenient artifacts." The voice was again a razor concealed under silk. "I offer communication and recognition of your realm's place among the Nine." Fury looked intrigued, but cautious. "My pardon and diplomatic recognition between us will be beneficial to both worlds."

"At present, you have no secrets from Asgard. Heimdall sees all, hears _all_. Odin watches from his throne. Believe me, I recall well all that can be seen from his seat. He, too, sees all, but shares nothing." Loki felt a small surge of satisfaction at the unease on the spy's face.

"Last I checked, it wasn't Odin who invaded Earth, an army at his back." Fury's tone was dry, his tone measured, and his face a stern mask.

The smirk that cut across Loki's face was sharper than knives. "He doesn't have to. Believe me when I tell you the Destroyer was only a toy. He sent the Tesseract here. He sent Thor here, knowing his lust for destruction and war. He _saw_ the Chitauri massing, heard their counsels, and did nothing, save to send Thor to retrieve his toy. I once sat on that throne. I know. The Queen of Aelfheim gave me news that makes me suspect he knew everything that passed from the moment I was… contacted by the Chitauri." A moment later, he sighed.

"I know you don't trust me. Ask Captain Rogers about the benevolence of Odin toward the people of Jotunheim. Ask him what the All-father does when he thinks his interests might be threatened." The captain was surely becoming annoyed at Loki's persistence in calling on his witness across the realms, but that was the price he, known to be scrupulously truthful, must pay for the company of a known and skillful liar. Even if that liar rarely lied.

Fury had apparently tired of listening to Loki's voice, and turned his glare on the captain. "Well, Rogers?"

"Sir, I can only tell you what I've seen. Jotunheim is cold and dark, and some Jotnar were living in caves beneath what I was told used to be their capitol city." Fury blanched at the implications. They told of their crown prince, Loki, being kidnapped as an infant while their temple was destroyed and the priests killed, apparently by Odin." Rogers took a deep breath before continuing. "Thor has a bad reputation there. I was told by the Duke of Utgard that on his last visit, Thor had been full of threats and violence."

The single eye glared sternly at Loki. "I still don't trust your ass as far as I can throw it. But I'm not so sure I trust the other guys, either, which leaves Earth in a bind. That makes me angry, really angry. So I'm sure as hell not going to promise you a pardon right off the bat. But we can potentially suspend your status until you come through. Now, I have no problem recognizing Jotunheim as an independent realm for the purposes of talking to each other, but I'm not going to commit Earth's military resources to your defense."

Loki's smile was warm and brilliant. "I would not expect Earth to expend resources on a war outside its boundaries when it has so much difficulty allotting resources internally. I recognize that my own personal status would not be lightly changed, but in order to fulfill Jotunheim's obligations, I will need to be able to visit this realm freely. I am concerned that Asgard will regard anything less than a full pardon as an excuse to intervene once again in Earth's affairs."

Fury's mouth twisted. "You drive a hard bargain, Loki. But I want something now if we're giving you a pardon now."

The urbane smile that answered this was a work of art. "Oh, but I've already given you something right now. I believe you will find that not only did I negotiate with Titania, Queen of Aelfheim, to remove both herself and her hive from your realm; before negotiations were complete, I enchanted Captain Steve Rogers to resist the glamour of the court and gave him help in removing two of your best agents from her immediate presence. I would not be surprised to find that one or two mortals went with her when she left. It has happened before, after all, and she did say she was looking for a new consort, but I ensured that none of them were your agents."

Fury shot a questioning glare at the Captain, who merely nodded. "Fine, but you step one _toe_ out of line, and I promise you, your earlier experience of our hospitality will seem like a tropical vacation resort."

Loki sprawled more comfortably in his chair, once again a ruler giving court, comfortable in his role as though it had been his forever. "Since it looks as though we intend to be amicable, allow me to recommend Captain Rogers as your envoy to Jotunheim. He has earned much respect there among the Court." A glance to the side showed the soldier's shock. "Also, he has learned something of Jotun culture and can serve as a link between the worlds. His likely lifespan also makes him more appropriate among my own long-lived people than another mortal." A second glance told him the captain had not considered this.

"I will need time to settle some affairs in my own realm and to conclude or renew certain other pacts through the realms. My coronation was very recent, you know. So I will try to contact you ahead of time for my next visit, at which time Captain Rogers may take up his duties. Shall we meet in Antarctica, which I understand is neutral ground in your realm, and will also be more comfortable for any of my subjects who might accompany me?"

Fury's answering scowl was only matched in intensity by Stark's glowing smile. "I've always wanted to visit McMurdo!"

* * *

Byleist had been flatteringly happy to see his return. While he had done well with the advisors Loki had left with him, he had worried that the King would again disappear, leaving Byleist to occupy a throne he felt unworthy of.

The short time had not been unproductive on Jotunheim. Thrym had suggested possibilities for a consort, including Angrboda, the offspring of a chieftain whose loyalty would be valuable. It still mildly shocked him to know that all Jotnar shared this ability to shift forms, to a greater or lesser extent, but that even the least skilled could easily transform male to female and vice-versa. Apparently, his mother and her sister had been well-known for their eccentricity in staying female at all times, which had drawn Laufey's attention.

Loki found himself busy for the rest of the day, settling disputes, judging cases, and arranging a meeting with Angrboda. Only at the end of a long day was he able to retreat to the reportedly sumptuous rooms reserved for the King. He still found them a little plain, looking with eyes accustomed to the golden magnificence of Asgard. Perhaps he would have the artist, Thjazi, redecorate them for him. Exploring, he found, beyond his reception room and bedchamber, a bathing chamber, another well suited as a library, and even a room that he knew immediately would be his casting room.

* * *

"I told you if you were quick about it, I might still be negotiating. But you weren't, and I have matters to take care of elsewhere, Thor." Loki was standing in his room, casually elegant in Aesir tunic and leggings, neatly groomed with only the added length of his hair and the simple elegance of the silver circlet to differentiate him from the Prince of Asgard he had been. "But now I must leave them for a moment to tutor you once again. Remember, I have sat in Odin's seat and I know how far his sight goes. He never thought me dead, but he let you think it. Why? Why did his rune bind the knowledge of my whereabouts after my fall, allowing none to help me? Titania tried and _failed_, and she is hardly a weakling."

Thor gaped. "Brother! Have you returned to us?" The deep blue eyes held both hope and sadness, leaving Loki to ponder, yet again, the Thunderer's ability to hold contradictory thoughts and believe them all. He sighed.

"No, I have not come to submit myself to Odin. I have, for whatever insane reason, decided that perhaps, even though you were willing to see me sacrificed to your father's overinflated ego, you might have meant your declarations of love and brotherhood." The image strolled through a large armor stand. "But I'm not sure you meant them enough. So all you get is an image. And a shield will protect our conversation." Here, he grinned widely. "We don't have long, either Heimdall or the All-Father are bound to notice soon that your rooms are currently impenetrable to their sight. So listen!"

Loki's eyes glowed brightly as emeralds in the golden light of Thor's antechamber. "I was, as you surmised on Midgard, somewhat influenced by the staff. And Odin knew it. He saw the Chitauri gathering, but did nothing until he could regain all his treasures: the Tesseract, your gratitude, and the true king of Jotunheim." The hissed words nearly shook with suppressed desperation. "For once, Thor, think! What game is he playing, and how does he mean to use you in it? For never doubt that he means to have you in the thick of play. Did you ask Heimdall?"

Electricity pooled in the sky blue eyes. "He would not answer me, only saying I had not mastered runecraft."

"Again, think! This is no quiz you can get out of with a claim of still-healing injuries from sparring. Who is the greatest master of runecraft? Who invented it? You know these things, Thor; willful blindness will get you into a bigger mess than you can fight your way out of."

Suddenly, Loki leaned forward. "They're on the way - you'd probably better say I tried to kill you." With these words, the image disappeared, but a large sword from the armor rack lifted itself to plunge into Thor's chest. Even through the pain, Thor smiled as he heard the guards running toward his room. A whisper ghosted against his ear. "Must be the distance that makes it difficult for me to hit anything vital." And the sound of laughter mixed with the sound of the door being broken down.

* * *

Loki reflected with satisfaction that he'd at least broken through Thor's smug certainty for a moment. And he'd hardly claim that sliding the sword through that great barrel of a chest had been anything less than a perfect moment. If ever there were a reason to go back and simply kiss his younger self, today had given it to him. Planting the runes in Thor's chambers had been the work of several months of careful timing, as well as using all of his honed skills at deception and trickery to hide them so that even Odin, master and inventor of runecraft, hadn't noticed. It had been a masterpiece of elegant magic to create a link for his magic in the royal heir's chambers.

He wondered briefly what had been done with his own rooms. No doubt Thor had wanted them preserved untouched after his fall as some kind of memorial to the brother he'd lost. Equally undoubtedly, Odin had been through to remove anything useful or dangerous, which meant nearly everything. Perhaps some day he'd look, but not today. There was too much to do today. He needed to contact Vanaheim and Niflheim.

Hoenir of Vanaheim had been in many ways the closest thing he'd had to a true friend, back when they were both the second princes of their respective realms, and expected to be decorative attachments to diplomatic missions. The last time they'd seen each other hadn't been long before Thor's coronation. Hoenir had still been freshly mourning for his brother, who had attempted a coup against their father. Secretly, of course. Asgard would not welcome a display of sentiment over a rebel challenging their own puppet king.

He'd confided in Loki, as he had since the day when, as a small page in Asgard's court, Hoenir had hidden in the second prince's rooms from the teasing of the Aesir children. Loki had been fascinated that anyone would come to him for comfort, and had joked until the other boy had shrieked with laughter. For the time he'd been at Asgard, Hoenir had been the appreciative audience for many of Loki's tricks, just as Loki had soaked up the knowledge Hoenir had gleaned as a page of the secrets of court. And now, they were both kings. Kings who would need to be strong in order to protect their realms.

Hela, Queen of Niflheim would be a natural alliance, as both their realms were encased in ice, poor of resources, and had a history under Asgard's golden boot. Loki remembered attending her coronation, in his adolescence, watching the young queen biting down gall and defiance in the presence of the Aesir party. He had felt an odd kinship in that moment, and had startled the new queen with a wink and a grin. With any luck, the gesture would buy him, even at this remove, an audience.

Certainly at the time, it had broken the tension. Thor had been his usual self in formal situations, looming in his formal armor, without even the relaxed grin he gave when being informal. Asgard was looking like a bully, and the new queen was being discomfited at the reception for her own coronation. So Loki had made his gesture. She'd given him a startled look, her pale blue cheeks blushing violet. But then, she'd relaxed and held her head high while greeting the Aesir. Yes, he thought, she would grant him an audience.

And with five of the realms allied, it would not be long before others would join. In the end, even Asgard would find itself tugged along in the wake of the weaker realms. Then, he need not fear the threat Thanos had delivered by messenger. Loki had no intention whatsoever of cowering on some barren moon. He would fight.


End file.
